


El amor todo lo puede

by LoveMeSomeRafael



Category: Chicago Fire, Chicago Justice (TV), Chicago Med, Chicago PD (TV), Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Some violent scenes and situations, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-08-14 15:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 58
Words: 199,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20194822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveMeSomeRafael/pseuds/LoveMeSomeRafael
Summary: Multi-chapter fic that jacks up timelines but tries to stay with canon as much as possible to put fave characters together and tell the story of an OC who falls in love with Rafael Barba.Chapter 1 Introduces Laura Parker, an OC, beginning with the lowest point of her life.  It is the end of her long-term relationship with Peter Stone, who can no longer watch her destroy her life with her alcoholism.





	1. The End of the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a Spanish proverb that means "Love can do it all." Equivalent to "Love will find a way."

At first, when Peter entered the hospital room, he thought it was empty. It was only when he stepped closer to her bed that he could see that what looked like simply tangles or bunches in the linen was actually Laura’s tiny frame. It terrified him how frail and emaciated she had become. She was shockingly pale, with an almost grey cast to her skin. One thin arm stuck out, bruised in several places from multiple attempts to find a viable vein for the IV that snaked up from her arm to a complex machine. The rest of her was huddled under several blankets, clutched under her chin. Despite the blankets, she appeared to be shivering.

The nurses had cleaned the blood from her skin, but he could see that it hadn’t yet become a priority to wash her hair. In her condition, grooming was low on the list. Her hair had formerly been thick and gleaming, with a silkiness that always tempted him to touch it. He had loved to stroke her hair and entwine his fingers in it. Now, thin and dull, broken ends standing out, it was still matted in places with dried blood.

Her eyes were open, although she wouldn’t look at him. Once sparkling with energy and amusement, her brown eyes were now dull and red-rimmed, appearing sunken. Large dark circles underneath seemed the only color in her gaunt face. 

He thought, fleetingly, how beautiful those beloved eyes had been. How he had loved to lie side by side with her, simply looking into those eyes. How Laura’s eyes had looked - unfocused, pupils dilated, lids half closed - when he made love to her. 

His own eyes, already brimming with tears, spilled over. Again.

He stepped to the side of her bed, quickly and furiously wiping his cheek. She moved her head, but continued to avoid facing him. 

“I don’t suppose you want to hear ‘I’m sorry’,” she croaked in a small, ragged voice.

“It doesn’t matter.”

For a fraction of a second, their eyes met before she had to look away. “It matters to me.”

Peter himself looked like hell. His hair - longer than he liked it, because Laura liked it shaggy – hung in greasy clumps. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot. But it was the anguished look on his haggard face that made him appear to be as ill as Laura was. His jaw was clenched with determination as he said what he had come to say in stiff, clipped tones. 

“Laura, I can’t do this anymore. I love you, but I’m done.” His raw throat could produce only a low rasp.

She reacted, turning her face toward him, but could only manage the briefest look at his face before having to shift her eyes to the blankets, the wall behind him, anywhere else.

“I would do anything. You know that. But nothing I do makes any difference.” He paused, swallowed hard, and continued. “You’ve burned down your whole life, and all I’ve been able to do is watch and beg you to stop. I love you so much…” For a moment he was unable to continue. 

“But you’re determined to kill yourself. And I can’t watch that. I know what that makes me and I hate myself for it, but… I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”

Laura closed her eyes, barely nodding her head. “I know.”

She turned her face away from him. “You should run,” she whispered. “Get as far away from me as you possibly can. I would, if I could.”

For long, long minutes, Peter stood looking down at Laura, his torment almost unendurable. She lay there, face turned from him, bony shoulders convulsing with silent sobs.

“I’ll be moved out when you get home. I won’t take anything that’s ours.” He waited for a response, but Laura remained silent.

“I love you, Sunshine. I’ll love you until the day I die…” His voice was choked off as he neared the limit of his ability to control his grief. 

He left the room, wiping tears as he went. 

Laura’s crying intensified when he was gone. She sobbed aloud, groaning in grief. “Oh, God… please help me… Please, God… help me…”

She had no idea that Peter, slumped against the wall just outside the door, hands over his ravaged face, heard her desperate prayer.


	2. Life 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OC Laura Parker has now been sober for a year and is ready to go back to work. Having lost her nursing license, she can't return to Chicago Med, so Sharon Goodwin introduces her to Hank Voight, who gives her a job as his assistant in the Intelligence unit at Chicago PD.

The ER at Chicago Med had a unique smell that Laura would always recognize. That particular combination of strong cleaning products, antiseptic, hospital food, and ever-present coffee was unmistakable. It was once an exciting smell; one that meant she was part of the most interesting, challenging, and rewarding place she had ever been. Later, it became a frightening smell that meant she had to stay focused, think clearly, and try to hold it together at any cost. Now, it was a smell that assaulted her with memories and feelings – good ones, bad ones, terrifying ones. She would rather have been anywhere else. Yet here she was. 

She stood to the side of the sliding doors, hoping not to be noticed. Maggie knew she was here, of course, but Maggie had promised not to pay any attention to her unless she needed rescuing. Laura said yet another quick prayer of thanksgiving that, despite everything, Maggie was still there for her.

And then there was fucking Will Halstead who, of course, was the first to notice Laura. He rushed toward her, cocky and judgy as always, as though he would throw her out into the street rather than let her soil “his” ER.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He demanded, already in her face.

“Morning, Beelzebub. Nice to see you, too,” Laura said, trying to remain nonchalant. All she had to do was get through a few minutes until Ms. Goodwin arrived for their meeting. Just a few minutes…

“If you think you have a chance in hell of getting your job back-“

“You know what, Will? The reason I’m here has nothing to do with you. So if you could just manage to fuck off, I promise I’ll be out of here as soon as humanly possible.” 

He simply stood there, in her space, glaring down at her as though she was Hannibal Lechter. Fortunately, Sharon Goodwin appeared behind him at that moment, smiling her gentle smile. Laura’s raw nerves felt that smile like a warm blanket. 

“Laura, good morning. You look wonderful.” Ms. Goodwin gave Laura a quick hug.

“Hi, Ms. Goodwin. Thank you so much for meeting with me.” 

Will exploded. “Ms. Goodwin, you cannot be thinking of letting her come back here!“

“Thank you, Dr. Halstead,” Ms. Goodwin said softly but firmly, continuing to smile while leading Laura gently by an arm around her shoulders. “If you’ll excuse us…” 

Ms. Goodwin and Laura walked through the ER and down the hall, leaving a fuming Will Halstead standing by the doors. 

When they reached Ms. Goodwin’s office and had taken seats at the small conference table, Laura thanked her again for seeing her.

“Laura, I know you’ve been sober for a year now, and I want you to know how happy I am for you. I know how difficult that has been for you, and I’ve spoken to several people who told me how hard you’ve worked.” 

“I’m glad. I told you, you can talk to anyone at the rehab, or my sponsor, or anyone you need to so you can feel comfortable doing this.”

“Well, I have to tell you, I wish I wasn’t doing it. I wish I was welcoming you back to Med. You’re a hell of a nurse, and the state is woefully shortsighted in the way it treats its impaired nurses. But, be that as it may, the Board of Nursing has made its decision, and here we are.”

“Thank you for saying that. I wish I was coming back, too. But I did what I did, and I accept that I’m not getting my license back. That’s why I appreciate your help so much. A lot of people around here rightfully hate me. Thank you for not being one of them.”

“You’re talking about Dr. Halstead. I know he’s been hard on you, but I hope you understand that what he’s really mad at you for is destroying a promising career. And, as you know, he has his own demons.”

“I know.”

“And listen, I’m just as mad at you as he is for drinking on the job.” Ms. Goodwin’s eyes bored into Laura’s before she continued. 

“I’m not helping you because I will ever excuse that. I’m helping you because Maggie Lockwood hounded me until I agreed to look into it. But more than that, I’m helping you because I understand that alcoholism is a disease. You don’t get to choose not to have it. You do get to choose what you do about it. And everyone I talked to tells the same story. You did everything you were told in rehab, and since then you’ve done everything your counselors and sponsor have asked of you. You seem committed to staying sober. I’m convinced you deserve a second chance.”

“Thank you, Ms. Goodwin.”

“So let’s go meet Hank Voight.” 

Sergeant Voight really did have a legitimate position open for an office assistant. He hadn’t created the job for Sharon Goodwin’s charity case. But Sharon had called in a favor to get him to hire Laura rather than another, perhaps more experienced, assistant. Voight knew her history and couldn’t have cared less as long as she stayed sober and got the job done. He also knew that she had some experience running an office, having worked for her father’s excavation company for years, including running that office full time for the past six months. So he was perfectly willing to give her a chance. He’d never had an assistant before; anyone was better than no one.

Laura had no idea what to expect. She had never even set foot in a police station before. But Ms. Goodwin thought that working for the CPD, especially a unit like Intelligence, might be the perfect fit for her. And, to everyone’s surprise, Laura adored Hank Voight at first sight. 

She couldn’t have explained it; it was much more than his willingness to give her a job as a favor to Ms. Goodwin. It was his gravelly voice, and his pissed-off demeanor, combined with her sense that he was a man who, when he loved, loved fiercely. She could tell he would be as good a friend as he would be a terrible enemy. More mundanely, she liked that his entire focus was on catching bad people who did bad things, leaving no room for day to day details like schedules, records, or paperwork. His office was a shambles. Which meant that Laura could actually contribute something to his unit.

And she did. Working for her father’s excavation company in Bloomington had bored her to tears after spending her days and nights in a Chicago ER. She just didn’t have to do much to keep Parker Excavation running smoothly and efficiently, and she needed a challenge. Not that her bonehead brothers weren’t a challenge, but they weren’t the kind of challenge she was looking for. She needed to be in a high-energy, high stakes environment where the best of the best were working balls-out to get a job done. So when she found herself working for CPD Intelligence, she was in her element. 

She quickly befriended the tech guy, Mouse, who had her up and running on the unit’s computer systems within a couple days. Within a week, she’d restructured Voight’s entire world so that he had to do the bare minimum of paperwork and he could put his hands on any file he needed simply by asking her for it. She taught him how to dictate, which he initially resisted but quickly came to enjoy when he discovered how much easier it was than scribbling or typing out reports, and how much better everything came out when she cleaned it up for him. Having Voight’s office running smoothly naturally translated into the whole unit running better, and the team soon learned to appreciate having Laura around. Like Voight, they could rely on her to get them what they needed and do what they needed done so that they could go about the real work of the unit.

Laura’s overwhelming gratitude for the opportunity Voight had given her came out in the thousand things she did every day to make his life easier. She learned fast. Very quickly, she was familiar with the cases the unit was working, and how each member of the unit, particularly Voight, worked. That allowed her to begin to anticipate their needs, and it became a routine occurrence that she would already have a file pulled up on Voight’s computer or in her hand when he asked for it. She knew whose calls he wanted to take, and who routinely got a sweet apology and a promise that she would give Sergeant Voight the message as soon as he returned to his office. She began to make friends around the CPD who could get things done, doing favors for anyone she could, in order to bank the return favors to use when needed. 

At some point, she realized she was having a blast. The idea stunned her. She shouldn’t have been happy, when hearing Maggie’s stories about what was happening at Med still caused a deep ache of loss, and the gnawing pain of missing Peter was ever-present. Not to mention that she still went to at least two AA meetings a day. But she found that a busy police station was just as exciting as a busy ER, and cops were as much her kind of people as medical professionals were. Impossible as it seemed, she had begun a new life that was beginning to show signs that it could be as good as her old one. The life she’d driven off a cliff.


	3. Didn't See That Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OC Laura Parker unexpectedly bonds with her coworker Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz after an explosion at District 21.

The crisis appeared to be over. Those who needed to be hospitalized had been transported to Med, and the people with minor injuries had been bandaged up. The building was going to take a bit longer to repair, but the pipe bomb that had exploded in the lobby of the Chicago Police Department’s District 21 headquarters hadn’t been severe enough to require the unit to move out. By 7 p.m., Sergeant Platt had sent everyone home.

Of course, most of the Intelligence unit was going to the hospital to visit Voight, who had been the intended target of the bomb. Fortunately, the bomb wasn’t very well made and, although he was closest to it when it exploded, even he had been several feet away. He was injured enough to be hospitalized but not injured enough to be quiet about it. He was furious both about the bomb and about the fact that the firefighters and paramedics from Firehouse 51 had given him no choice about going to Med. Halstead, Ruzek and Atwater were looking forward to giving him shit about it, even though Dawson had strongly advised them not to. He was going along to run interference when they made the mistake of trying it.

The day had been too long for Laura, however. She had spent the entire afternoon following the blast helping to triage injured people, clean and bandage wounds, and put the district station back into as much order as possible. As soon as she brought the damaged surveillance equipment down to the tech room, she was looking forward to an AA meeting and then a quiet night in. 

She placed the heavy box of equipment onto the counter, calling for Mouse. She didn’t really expect him to be there. She hadn’t seen him since the explosion, and thought he had probably been involved in the investigation and the subsequent cleanup work. Most likely, he’d left when Platt told everyone to go home. As Laura turned to leave, she heard a scraping noise that seemed out of place. There was very little light in the room, since the electricity hadn’t been fully restored to the building yet. She’d been navigating more by memory than sight, but did have a flashlight with her. She flicked it on. 

What had she heard? She didn’t think anyone was there and, given that it was a police station, wasn’t concerned that someone was lying in wait. But she was intensely curious. She went behind the counter and shined the light down the floor between the large shelves of electronics and other equipment in the room to the heavy table against the wall at the end. The table was long, with the shelves set against it on both ends so that there were spaces underneath on each side that were behind the shelves. Laura’s flashlight caught the edge of a shoe in the space on the left. Mouse’s shoe.

The moment she saw his shoe, she knew that Mouse was under the table in the hollow behind the shelf. And she knew why. Although she didn’t know him very well, it was fairly common knowledge that Mouse was recovering from some heavy psychic wounds as a result of his service in Afghanistan. Of course the explosion this morning had freaked him out. Laura had no idea what shape he was in, or what to do, but she knew she couldn’t just leave him there. She sat down on the chair in front of his computer and turned it toward the table.

“Hey, Mouse?” She said softly in the gloom. “I can see you’re back there. Can I help?”

He didn’t respond except to stretch his leg out, since there was no longer any reason to try to hide his presence. 

“I guess, um, that explosion must’ve been… I mean, it scared the hell out of me. So I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for you.”

“I’ll be fine. Go away.”

Now it was Laura’s turn not to respond.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, Mouse, I’m still here. It’s just… I don’t really think I should leave you. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I definitely do not want to talk about it.” He sounded almost angry. 

“OK. Do you want to talk about… anything? Because I could just sit here with you and not talk.”

She thought he had decided not to answer her, so she turned the chair around and sat with her elbow on his desk and her head resting on her hand, settling in. But he surprised her. Through the half darkness, his voice came quietly from under the table.

“You could talk. Just… I don’t want to think about what happened right now.”

“OK. What do you want to talk about?”

“Something else. Anything else. Just… talk to me, OK? Why don’t you tell me what it’s like to be Voight’s assistant or something.”

“Well… Let’s see,” Laura thought fast. “He dictates his reports, did you know that? It’s like seeing into his thoughts. I know he’s all guns and fists and everything but, you know, he’s actually pretty brilliant, too. You should hear those files. He sometimes forgets he’s dictating, and he’ll just start theorizing to himself. It’s fascinating. And then he’ll just pick up where he left off and start dictating again, without bothering to erase the part where he’s talking to himself. Interesting guy, Voight.”

No noise came from where Mouse was sitting, still entirely hidden from Laura except for one lower leg and foot.

“And he doesn’t edit himself at all. He leaves that to me. He’ll be like, ‘So I popped the bastard one,’ which I translate into ‘I used necessary physical force to subdue the suspect.’ I’ve always thought it would be hilarious to type what he actually says. I think the funniest one was when he said ‘and then the bloody fuckwad pulled a piece’, which I typed out as ‘the suspect brandished a firearm’.” 

Laura spent the next fifteen minutes talking about things that had happened in the course of working for Voight. She told Mouse little anecdotes about funny things the detectives had done, made harmless complaints about the nuts and bolts of trying to keep a unit composed of such characters running as it should, anything she could think of to distract him from whatever demons were running amok in his head. She thought she heard a snicker once or twice, so she figured she was doing all right.

She was shocked to hear his voice come from the dark recess under the table. “Tell me about it,” he said. “Atwater cannot keep a concealed radio in one piece. Every single time it comes back to me in shreds. And don’t get me started about Ruzek and cell phones.”

“Ruzek should never be allowed to touch anything with an on/off switch. The man managed to delete an entire year’s worth of timesheets. He’s a menace.”

This time Laura was sure she heard a soft chuckle. 

“Hey… Mouse… I feel kind of stupid sitting out here basically talking to myself. Do you think I could maybe come under there with you?”

The silence that followed seemed to suggest that she’d made a mistake.

“Or not. I’m OK here.”

“No, it’s OK. I guess I just didn’t expect you to ask that.”

“So can I come over there?”

“If you want.” 

Laura slowly walked between the shelves to the table and carefully lowered herself to her knees. Leaning forward, she crawled underneath the table and into the hollow behind the shelf opposite where Mouse sat with his back against his shelf and his legs stretched out. He leaned his head back against the shelf and didn’t look at Laura. 

“Huh” she said. “This is nice. Feels safe. I might start hanging out under here.”

When he didn’t respond, she began to tell a story about Kim Burgess losing an earpiece and thinking a friend’s dog had eaten it. Kim had come to Laura asking for advice about how to break the news to Mouse.

“She never told me that,” he said.

“That’s because she found it in her car.”

A companionable silence ensued. Laura thought Mouse’s body language suggested that he was calm but still not ready to deal with what had happened. He seemed comfortable as long as they stayed in this dark, enclosed, concealed space and talked about relatively safe things.

“I saw you bandaging wounds today. Didn’t seem like it was your first rodeo.”

“I used to be a nurse.”

He looked over at her. “’Used to be’? What happened?”

She sighed. “I used to be a drunk.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Yeah, the State of Illinois isn’t very forgiving when it comes to nurses who drink on the job.”

“Is that how you came to work for Voight?”

“Yeah. My old boss called in a favor. I owe both of them a lot.”

“Sounds like me. Jay got Voight to give me this job. Saved my ass. I was into some bad shit.”

“Well, all hail Voight, then.” Laura held out a fist and Mouse reached his arm out to bump it in the dark.

Mouse let out a mirthless laugh. “And now look how well I’m doing.”

Laura looked over at him. He shook his head and made a dismissive gesture with his hand, telling her he didn’t want to pursue the subject.

“Hey… are you hungry?”

“Huh?”

“It’s gotta be at least eight. You hungry?”

“I dunno. I guess. I might have a PowerBar or something in a drawer.”

She pulled out her phone. The screen seemed painfully bright in the gloom. “Pizza.”

“Not sure anyplace delivers to ‘the space under the table at District 21’.”

“No worries. We’ll get it delivered to the desk and I’ll go get it.”

An hour later, a near-empty pizza box sat between them and Laura was yawning. 

“You could go home, you know. I’m not suicidal or anything.”

“You kicking me out of your fort?”

Mouse smiled. “No. I’m just… not ready for the world yet.”

“Me either. Would it be OK with you if I stayed?”

“Whatever. My fort is your fort.” 

Near midnight, Mouse lay on his back with his hands behind his head, telling Laura about the men in his unit in Afghanistan. She was on her side facing him, head cradled on one arm. They both seemed to have forgotten that there was any reason to be anywhere other than where they were, talking together in the now-complete darkness. They had just let the conversation take them wherever it would. This was the closest they’d come to talking about the ghosts that haunted Mouse.

He talked about what it took to graduate Ranger school, and the different set of skills it took to actually function in active combat. At first, he told her about accomplishments he was proud of; technological challenges he’d overcome and successes he’d had in making something difficult work. Soon enough, that led to more painful tales about what he’d seen and done in Afghanistan, and how he felt about it.

And then he began to talk about the day his convoy had run into an IED and his entire world had been blown up with his Humvee. Laura was fascinated by the fact that he could have this conversation as calmly as he could, given what he had been through then, and what had happened just this morning. But she didn’t say that. Rather, she listened and responded as calmly but honestly as she could, thinking that it had to be good for him to be talking about this rather than just isolating himself in a hidden cubbyhole, letting it eat him alive. 

It seemed natural that, after talking through the worst events of his life and their aftermath, Mouse was exhausted. The conversation ebbed, with each of them making a random comment now and then. After a lull of about five minutes, Laura suddenly realized from the sound of Mouse’s breathing that he was dozing. She smiled to herself. 

She felt good. She hadn’t known Mouse as more than a casual work acquaintance before, and didn’t think he would ever have thought of her as a confidante, but she’d turned out to be the friend chance sent to him. And she thought she had done OK being there for him. 

She also found herself really liking Mouse. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t the sweet, intelligent, thoughtful man she’d gotten to know here in a dark corner of the tech room. He was a fascinating combination: a little goofy, definitely geeky, and at the same time, a battle-scarred warrior from an elite branch of the Army. She’d noticed that he was really good looking, of course, but hadn’t given it much thought. She thought she was still in mourning for her relationship with Peter. So she was intrigued to find herself looking over at him, softly snoring a few feet away, and wondering what it would be like to date him. To kiss him.

She fell asleep herself, thinking about that. 

The next morning, early, Mouse woke Laura. He said that he felt OK, and offered to drive her home to shower and change for work. She declined. She had a change of clothes in her locker, so she could just shower in the locker room. She preferred to do that so that she could get another couple of hours of sleep. 

“Here?” He asked, a little bewildered.

“Sure. Why not?” She croaked sleepily. “Told you, I like it here.”

He shook his head. “Suit yourself,” he grinned. 

“See you in a few hours,” she said, adjusting her position and re-closing her eyes.

“So, uh… Thanks for hanging with me. It helped.” 

“Anytime,” she murmured, and fell back to sleep.

Huh, he thought. He just spent the night with Laura Parker underneath a table in the tech room. And she sure was cute when she slept.


	4. It's Not What You Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mouse is accused of planting malicious spyware in the District 21 computer system. OC Laura Parker tries to help him clear his name.

The morning was hectic before anyone’s coffee had even kicked in, and it was obvious that Sergeant Voight was in a mood. His assistant was usually able to stay on his good side regardless of his mood, but today was an exception. He’d already thrown Laura out of his office and barked at her twice. 

Jay Halstead bustled up the stairs into the bullpen. “Anybody seen Mouse?”

As it turned out, no one has seen the unit’s tech guru that morning. The team was just generally discussing where he might be when Voight came out of his office and took a stance near the whiteboard, arms crossed and legs wide, clearly agitated. 

“Mouse won’t be comin’ in today. He’s been suspended. Indefinitely.”

Every member of the team reacted differently, but all reacted out loud. Mouse had a history, but he had been squeaky clean since joining the team, and the psychological wounds he had brought home from Afghanistan seemed to have less hold on him every day. And the unit needed him. Intelligence relied heavily on all the technology they used, and there didn’t seem to be anything Mouse couldn’t do. Besides all of that, flaky as he seemed at times, Mouse was just plain likeable. Halstead’s voice cut through the general clamor.

“Wait, what? What happened? How come I didn’t hear anything about this?”

“Last night, I got a call from Commander Fitzgerald over at Central Command,” Voight growled. “Apparently, they’ve been looking into data traffic coming out of this district. Something was off about the volume going out of here – we were shipping five times the data of any other district. So they started digging. It ain’t good. Apparently, somebody loaded some very nasty spyware into our system. It’s been sending out copies of everything we’ve done - every email, every report, everything - for the last three weeks. And here’s the thing. They were able to pinpoint the computer that uploaded it.” Voight walked across the room and slapped his hand down on Mouse’s desk. “This one.”

Halstead stood up from where he’d been sitting on his desk. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you telling me that you think Mouse did this? ‘Cuz there’s no way.”

“Hard to ignore the obvious, Jay.”

“Sarge, that’s insane. You know Mouse. There is no way this is him. So it’s his computer. That doesn’t mean anything. Anyone could’ve used it to upload that spyware.”

“Well, look,” Erin Lindsay said from her desk. “Maybe we’re asking the wrong question here. This spyware, it sends everything we do on our computers somewhere, right? So who’s getting this data?”

Voight’s lips twisted in frustration. “They’re still figuring that out.”

Halstead stepped closer to Voight, getting unwisely up in his face. “So we know squat, other than whose computer was used, and that’s enough to fire Mouse? That’s completely jacked, man. He’s been an absolute asset from the moment he got here, and he is completely loyal. You know that.”

“Watch it, Jay. He’s your friend, I get that. But computer guy, computer crime, spyware uploaded from his computer… I’m not taking chances.”

Laura agreed. “You know, I really gotta pile on with Jay here, Sergeant. Me and Mouse, we work pretty closely together. And I’ve never seen anything to suggest he’d do something like this.”

“Yeah, all right,” Voight said, a bit quieter now. “Well, until we know who did this, he stays gone.” He turned away and began to walk back to his office. Laura stood up, leaning on her desk toward him as he came toward her, her eyes flashing with irritation.

“Hey! Don’t pat me on the head! I got no dog in this fight – he’s not my best friend. But I do spend a lot of time with him. While you guys are out in the field, we’re here. All day, every day. I know this guy. I can see what he’s doing most of the time. And I am telling you, this is not him.“

For a moment, everyone in the room held their breath. 

“Everybody take a step back!” Voight shouted. “Somebody got into our computer system and they’ve been watching everything we do for the last three weeks. I am not gonna tolerate somebody spying on us in my house, and I am not gonna give the number one suspect a chance to cover his tracks! I need you all to be thinking like cops right now. Fitzgerald is gonna be here any minute for a briefing and I don’t want to hear any more about Mouse. Is that clear?”

**************

Commander Fitzgerald’s briefing was tense. “So what it looks like, at this point, is that the data was shuttled through a series of servers. We followed it to an offshore commercial cloud storage, and that’s where we lose it. We’re still working on picking the trail back up.”

Halstead stood in the back of the room, fuming. He kept his arms crossed and eyes closed, head tilted toward the ceiling. Since the Commander had begun ten minutes before, he’d let loose several disgusted noises and impatient sighs. Finally, he hit his limit. “This is ridiculous. All due respect, Commander, but this is exactly the kind of thing Mouse is great at. He’s like a bloodhound, and nobody knows our system like he does. He should be the one chasing this down.” 

Voight’s voice was dangerously low. “Jay. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

Halstead said nothing, but the vein pulsing at his temple and his clenched jaw spoke volumes. He and Voight stared one another down.

Al Olinsky scratched his head, looking at the Commander. “So what do we think these guys were after with this? Inside information on an investigation? Information on C.I.s?”

“We don’t know at this point,” the Commander responded. “But we will. Before we dug out the spyware, we uploaded some dummy files. Fake leads in all your ongoing investigations, fake C.I.s., and a bunch of other stuff. All designed to make whoever it is want to act on it.” 

“So all we need to do is sit back and wait for the bad guys to take the bait,” Olinsky finished for him.

“That’s the idea.”

Voight took the floor at that point. “Well, we ain’t just going to wait around. I want to know who’s spyin’ on us. I want all of you beating the bushes, talking to your C.I.s. Get out there and find out if anyone’s talking. Laura, I want you working with the tech lab, following that data. I want to know who sent it, and where it went.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

***************

As Laura sat scowling into one of the screens attached to Mouse’s computers and Adam Ruzek and Jay Halstead worked at their desks, Voight stormed into the bullpen. He stopped to hover over Laura like a vulture for the third time in an hour.

“Anything?”

“Well, Sergeant, I’ve been able to figure out how the spyware worked, and identify everything it copied. But as far as where it came from, so far, all I’ve been able to do is rule a few things out.”

“Great. So we know where it didn’t come from. I need to know where it did.”

“Yeah? Well, you know who could do this a lot faster?”

Voight crowded even further into her space, scowling in a way that had intimidated many hardened criminals. “Hey!”

“Sorry. But look, this is computer forensics and data tracking. Not my area. If you tell him I said this, I’ll deny it, but I just can’t do what Mouse can do.”

“Well, keep going. I want these guys. Plant a worm in our system, steal our data? Somebody’s gonna fry!”

Laura and Jay exchanged a look as Voight stormed off.

She raised her eyebrows. “He’s out for blood.”

“Yeah,” Halstead agreed. “Mouse’s blood. I’m starting to think this is about more than just somebody hacking our system.”

Ruzek walked over to Halstead’s desk. “You think this could be about Jin?

“Yeah, I do. Voight sure was quick to assume the tech guy had to be responsible. I’m not sure he’s seeing clearly on this.”

“That ain’t good. Look what happened to Jin.” 

“Yeah…” Jay muttered.

Laura looked from one to the other. “Someone wanna clue me in?”

“Before your time,” Halstead told her. “Sheldon Jin. The tech guy before Mouse. He hacked Voight’s computer and helped a guy try to set him up. Ended up dead.” 

**********

Laura took a breath, squared her shoulders, and knocked on the scarred door in front of her. She wasn’t sure about what she was doing, but she and Jay had decided it was the only way. She only hoped Mouse would agree and cooperate. When he opened the door, he looked as rough as she‘d ever seen him, which was saying something, given the shape he’d been in when they’d met. 

“Hey. What… what’s goin’ on?”

“I need to know that you didn’t do this.”

He narrowed his eyes and his lip curled. “Really? You, too? I can’t believe this! What’d I ever do - Look, you know I wasn’t doing too great when Voight gave me that job. I owe him. I would –“ 

She spoke right over his tirade. “Because I think I believe you.”

He stopped mid-word.

“Look at me.” He turned his bright blue eyes on her and simply watched as she moved closer to him and looked into his face. “Did you plant that spyware?”

“No. I did not plant that spyware.”

For a few moments, they stood there in the doorway, Laura looking into Mouse’s eyes until she finally nodded, mostly to herself.

“OK,” she sighed. She reached into a pocket of her slacks, pulled out a flash drive, and held it out to him.

“What is this?”

“It’s what you think it is. Upload it and give me fifteen minutes to get back to the District. I’ll call you on your cell.” 

Laura turned to go and took a few steps down the hallway.

“Hey, Laura…” She turned around. The sad hope in his eyes broke her heart. “You know this is a crime. You get caught, it’s not just your job. You could go to jail. Not to mention what Voight’ll do to you.”

“Yeah. I know. So please, please be who I think you are.” She gave him as much of a smile as she could manage, given the situation. “I’ll call you.”

*************

Once again, Laura found herself at Mouse’s desk. She fired up his computers and adjusted a Bluetooth in one ear, looking around to make sure she wasn’t being observed. The team was all out at a crime scene, but there were people everywhere in a working police station. She surreptitiously dialed a cell phone sitting on the desk.

“It’s me,” she whispered. “Got it loaded?”

Mouse, working on a much more complex computer setup in his living room, spoke into his own headset. “Yeah.”

“All right. What do you need?”

“Just get me into the system. I’ll take it from there.”

“Got it.” She clicked around for a while. “OK, you’re in.”

“Stand by. Let me know if anybody gets too close, cuz it’s gonna be obvious you’re not the one driving.”

*************

Half an hour later, Laura was still at Mouse’s computers, still on the phone with Mouse. She was looking intently at the screen, tracing something with her finger. 

“Yeah, I see it. Not sure what I’m looking at, though.”

“That’s the actual code behind that email. See that section where the cursor is? That shouldn’t be there.”

“So you think this could be how the worm got in? Behind the email? In the code?”

”Could be… Let me figure out what this does…”

“What’s this little goober here? The thing that looks like a starfish.”

“I dunno yet. Maybe nothing.” He continued looking at the code for a minute, then got a shock as a wall of code began scrolling past his eyes. “Hey, what’d you do?”

“I clicked on it. Oh, man… are you seeing this?”

“What did I tell you about… Holy crap, Laura. That’s the worm.”

Laura made a disgusted noise. “Of course. It was just a junk email. He knew you’d be too smart to open any attachment. But what do you do with junk mail? You delete it, right? And that’s what triggered it. It was you that inserted the spyware, but not intentionally. All you did was delete a junk email.” 

“You delete an email, it doesn’t show up anymore. Kinda like arson, where the accelerant burns up? If Central hadn’t found the worm in time, that email would’ve been over-written. 

“That’s diabolical.”

“Well, I’m glad you approve.”

In their respective locations, they both smiled.

“Listen, Mouse, I got it from here. We got the IP address it came from. All I gotta do now is trace it. You get out. And get rid of that stick.”

“Roger that. You be careful.”

“I will.”

******************

Later, Laura sat at her own desk, talking rapidly and anxiously on the phone.

“It’s 4330 Northeast Cicero. You need me to text you directions?” She listened to the response.

“Yeah, you got it.” She began clicking keys on her keyboard at a furious pace. “By the way, Kevin… I can’t get a hold of Voight. He’s not answering his phone. You heard from him?”

Atwater’s voice came through the phone headset she wore. “Nah, I haven’t heard from him. Haven’t seen him since this morning.”

“OK. I’ll keep looking. Let me know when you got Baldwin.” 

She clicked a button on her phone, thought for a moment, then clicked another few buttons, dialing the front desk.

“Hey, Sergeant Platt, I got the team rolling to pick up a suspect, and I’m trying to track down Voight. He checked in with you today?”

“Yeah, he was headed over to Mouse’s place. Said something about wrapping up the spyware thing.”

Laura’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, no…”

She quickly recovered and said a hasty “Thanks, Sergeant” into her headset, then ripped the headset off. She jumped up from her desk, grabbing her purse from a bottom drawer and leaving the drawer hanging open as she tore across the bullpen to the back stairs. 

“No, no, no, please, no …” she muttered breathlessly as she ran.

**********

Laura, in a squad car she was going to catch hell for comandeering, came to a screeching halt right in front of Mouse’s apartment building. She threw the door open, heading for the front door of the building at a dead run, then hurtled up the stairs toward Mouse’s apartment. To her dismay, the door was standing open. She rushed in, coming upon Voight, who held a gun on Mouse as he lay bleeding on the floor against a wall of the living room. Voight had obviously attacked him and thrown him there. 

“No!” Laura screamed. “Sergeant, no! It wasn’t him!”

Heedless of the gun, she ran across the room to get down on the floor and check on Mouse. When she saw that he wasn’t seriously hurt, she remained in front of him and turned around toward Voight, holding one hand out as if to ward off a blow. She kept the other hand on Mouse’s chest.

“Sergeant, don’t do this,” she panted.

“Get out of the way, Laura. You don’t want to be part of this.”

“This is not Sheldon Jin!”

Voight looked at her strangely, but stopped talking.

“Sergeant, you’re looking at Mouse, but you’re seeing Jin. And it’s got you thinking crooked. Jin screwed you over, I get that, but Mouse didn’t do this! And I can prove it.” 

“Move. I’m not gonna ask again.”

Laura was breathing hard and talking fast. “It’s somebody named Jack Baldwin. You put him in Stateville five years ago.”

“Baldwin?”

“I can prove it. I’ll show you. The footprints are there, it just took us a while to find ‘em. Trail leads straight back to Baldwin. The team’s picking him up right now. Sergeant, you want to be there. You know Halstead. This guy framed Mouse, and you know how he feels about that. I don’t know what he might do to him. Please. You need to be there.

Voight hesitated, slowly made a decision and lowered his gun. 

“Yeah, all right. I’ll go get Baldwin. But I will deal with you back at the District. Both of you. I get back and you’re not there, you better keep runnin’.”

“We’ll be there. Go. I texted you the address and directions.”

Voight looked at them for a moment longer before turning and striding out the door. Laura relaxed and rolled from her crouch to sit on the floor next to Mouse. She swept his hair away from a bleeding wound on his forehead.

“You hurt bad?”

“I’ll live. Did you just get between me and a bullet?”

She laughed a little, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, I guess I did. Not the smartest move I ever made…” She indicated his wound. “This looks pretty bad. You got a first aid kit?”

They helped eachother up from the floor and went into Mouse’s bathroom, where Laura had him sit on the edge of the sink while she stood in front of him, bandaging the wound.

“All right. That’s as good as I can do. Shouldn’t leave much of a scar.”

His expression was serious as he looked into her face. “Hey. Thank you. For believing me.”

Laura cocked her head and gave him a crooked smile. “You realize this means we’re friends now.”

Mouse smiled down at her, giving her a look that quite literally made her stop breathing.

“I can live with that.”

She was dumbstruck, and began to lean in toward him, unable to resist. She caught herself, shook her head a little, and began to babble. ”Right. Well. Let’s get back to the district.”

“Let me just change my shirt,” he said, indicating a smear of blood on the one he was wearing.

He headed out toward the bedroom. She followed him in a daze, walking directly into the door frame. She took a step back, squared her shoulders a little, took a step to the side and went out the door.


	5. The Mating Call Of The Nerd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mouse and OC Laura Parker begin dating in the dorkiest, geekiest possible way.

Sometimes Laura had trouble appreciating God’s sense of humor. Sure, she could flirt and tease and smolder like a boss, but only as long as her heart wasn’t involved. When she really liked a guy, suddenly she had absolutely no game. None. She either got tongue-tied or couldn’t stop saying things that put her into an eternal cringe. And she had no idea how to make those sweet, romantic gestures that let a man know how she felt. Sometimes she wondered how she’d ever managed to lose her virginity at all.

For weeks, Laura and Mouse had been steadily fumbling their way toward one another. They found reasons to spend time together at work. They began texting one another across the bullpen when they wanted to say something they didn’t want their coworkers to overhear. Even when the detectives were all out in the field, Mouse had sent her a few texts across the room, just complaining about something or sharing a goofy picture someone had sent him. They had even spent what turned out to be an entirely platonic evening at Mouse’s apartment playing an online role-playing game they’d discovered they both liked. That had actually been a lot of fun. It was hard to be disappointed in an evening that had involved so much laughter and online mayhem. They’d turned out to be a dangerous team when they worked together in the game. That was one reason the evening had been platonic. The other was that neither of them had found the courage to make a pass. 

Now they were at work, and she was sitting at her desk, trying yet again to figure out how to save a report she’d typed up for Voight using the new system CPD had just installed. She really didn’t want to have to ask Mouse a third time to help her set up her folders the way she wanted them. She clicked furiously on the Enter key, uttering a different curse word with each jab at the keyboard. 

Behind her, she heard a chair roll up and Mouse’s soft chuckle. “Wow. You got some vocabulary. You sure you’re not military?”

“I hate this system! Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…” she whined theatrically. 

He rolled up just behind her, resting a forearm on the back of her chair. She instantly broke out in goosebumps as she felt his breath on the back of her neck. 

“Relax. I got you.” He leaned forward so that his face was next to hers, his hair tickling her ear. “Get out of this dialog box.”

She did as he told her. He walked her through another few steps until the file was named and saved in a new folder nestled exactly where she wanted it in the directory. She wouldn’t remember one step of it, of course, because all she was doing was reflexively reacting to his instructions. Her entire mind was focused on Mouse, now close enough that their cheeks were touching. The scent of whatever shower gel he used was now permanently etched in her sensory memory, along with the visceral erotic reaction it was having on her. 

She gulped. OK. Here goes. She began to turn her head millimeter by millimeter, as the warm, delicious sensations low in her body began to be replaced by nervous butterflies. But he took over from her before the butterflies had a chance to multiply, sliding his hand into her hair and turning her face to his.

He tilted his head and fit his lips to hers. He kissed her with an expertise that shocked her. Awkward and nerdy he might be, but damn, he was good with his lips. As they heard the security gate at the bottom of the stairs open and the voices of the detectives began to drift into the room, he pulled away just enough to look into her eyes, while keeping his hand in her hair.

“Your move,” he said seductively, giving her a look that would set ice on fire.

As Voight, Olinsky, Dawson, and Lindsay boisterously entered and went to work at their respective desks, calling out to one another as they worked, Laura sat staring blankly at her computer screen. She was completely unnerved. She had a fairly massive dose of hormones coursing through her veins, of course, but she was also suddenly terrified. Mouse couldn’t just leave the next move to her. She was hopeless and she knew it. It never even occurred to her to simply ask him out on a date. Instead, she thought of all the tropes she’d ever heard: showing up at his door wearing only a trench coat, inviting him over to find a path of rose petals leading to the bedroom, dragging him into a storage closet at the station, but none of them seemed even remotely possible. She’d die of mortification. Having completely wrapped herself around the axle with these thoughts, she spent the rest of the afternoon moving paper around and looking at emails without seeing them. 

When it was time to leave work, she was nowhere to be found. Mouse wondered what that meant. He’d hoped that they would just naturally leave together and go somewhere for a real dinner that took place on a table rather than under one. Had she just left without saying goodbye? What did that mean? She’d kissed him back, he was sure of that. He’d felt her tremble and heard her breath catch. And he’d seen her flushed and flustered when he’d pulled away from her. So why would she be avoiding him now? 

**********

The next day, things between Mouse and Laura were a little odd. 

It had been one of those days when at least some of the detectives were in the bullpen all day, and Voight had Laura running at full speed with things he suddenly needed immediately. When he needed something, he’d just sit at his desk and yell her name. By this time, though, Laura and Voight had established a fluid working relationship that allowed Laura to predict what Voight was thinking a few seconds before he actually thought it. More often than not, he’d ask for a file that she would just have emailed him, knowing he’d need it. Once, he asked her to get District Commander Crowley on the phone, only to be told that Laura already had her office on hold waiting for him to pick up. 

There was little opportunity for Mouse and Laura to talk. Laura very much wanted to talk to Mouse, but she had no idea what to say to him. “Hi, let’s hook up”? Not likely. He did send her a text asking if she wanted to have lunch. She sent him a message consisting of two emojis: handcuffs and a desk. They’d shared a regretful look across the bullpen, and that had been it. Voight kept Laura busy at her desk until long after Mouse had given up on waiting for her to be able to leave for the day. 

Mouse hoped that she would call him, or at least text, but she didn’t. Now he was really confused, and a little unhappy about it. Was she playing with him? She’d seemed to be straight up and cool, but maybe he’d misjudged her?

That night, the detectives had spent most of the night at the scene of a bloody massacre at a house that turned out to be the base for a major drug operation. The case had several possible suspects, both groups and individual people, which had the entire team working through facts and theories much of the next day. They’d ordered in lunch and everybody stayed late. 

Laura had accepted a ride from Mouse when they finally left, but only to a church near her apartment where she was meeting her AA sponsor for a meeting. She seemed a little nervous, but definitely not standoffish. In fact, she’d given him a peck on the lips and a quick hug just before hopping out of his van. He watched her walk around the side of the church to where several people stood smoking outside a door. She hugged a number of them. Maybe she was seeing someone? As he drove off, he suddenly wondered whether he had made a mistake kissing her. 

He spent the entire next day down in his tech room, putting together equipment and a communications plan for an operation the team had planned for the following night. He ate junk from the vending machine for lunch, and didn’t even have time to text Laura. She’d been busy, too, but hers had been an everyday level of busy, with much of the team in the bullpen all day, preparing for the following night. 

She stopped by when her workday was over, but he wasn’t ready to leave. So they said goodnight and she left, feeling like she should have said or done something more to let him know she was interested. Your move? He should never have left it up to her. 

***********

That night, Laura sat on the floor of her living room with her back against the couch and her laptop on the coffee table in front of her. She was playing the role playing game again, this time participating in a raid with a number of her online friends. When the group had successfully looted a stronghold built by other players, one of her teammates got the idea to try to make their online avatars high five each other. It was just a nerdy joke, but it gave Laura an idea.

She could see which of her friends were online, and had noticed about fifteen minutes earlier that Mouse was playing the game. She decided to see if she could find his character. Having played together a few times, once while in the same room, she knew a little about where in the universe of the game he and his friends might be. After searching around a bit, she found Mouse’s avatar. 

She might be awkward in the real world when it came to men she really liked, but she was pretty comfortable in the alternate reality of the game. And, being a fellow nerd, she thought Mouse would get what she was about to do. 

She walked her avatar up to his until he saw her and turned his character around so they were facing each other. Soon, the dialog box below the game display started to show their typed conversation.

**Lorelei:** Hi

**Grrrrwitz:** Hi yourself

**Lorelei:** Ready for my move?

**Grrrrwitz:** More than ready

Laura’s character was a Mage; she carried a wand and potions rather than weapons. She could also cast spells. One of the spells Laura had built could knock another character to the ground. She used it on Mouse’s avatar. 

**Grrrrwitz:** Hey!

**Lorelei:** Wait for it

She moved her character to where his lay, and her avatar knelt down beside him, as she often did to heal characters who had been wounded in game battles. Instead, she moved her character to awkwardly lean over him and kiss him. Although she’d never had any interest in trying it, she’d read that, in this particular game, characters could actually have sex if the players could figure out how to do it. She was very curious to see what Mouse would do. 

As Mouse sat at his computer, watching Laura’s avatar knock down and then kiss his, he smiled hugely and said aloud to the empty room, “There it is.” 

But he wasn’t sure how to respond. He knew that characters in this game could have sex, but that didn’t seem like the right response. Besides, if he was going to have sex with Laura, it wasn’t going to be on a computer screen while their actual bodies were across town from one another. Instead, he decided to try something different. 

He knew the spell would work for a minute or so, and then his character could move again. He waited and, when he could, he made his avatar get up from the ground. He saw Laura’s stand, too.

**Grrrrwitz:** You better get outta here or you’re gonna regret that

Laura didn’t respond, but her character began to run away. Mouse’s character followed. For a while, he chased her around the game’s landscape, until she ran into a castle. He followed, catching her character in a turret. He had his character throw his sword on the floor and back hers into a corner, which he suspected she could have gotten out of if she’d tried. His avatar put one arm on either side of hers and kissed her character. 

Just as he was wondering what to do next, he saw her character duck out from between his character’s arms and run out of the room. For the next hour, they played a ridiculous online game of chase and kiss. Occasionally, another character would try to engage them. The first time that happened, Mouse’s avatar wasted no time killing them with his sword. From then on, when another character interfered with their silly chase, they would quickly dispatch that character and continue. It was the nerdiest flirtation either Mouse or Laura had ever engaged in, but they both enjoyed it immensely.

**Grrrrwitz:** Well played

**Lorelei:** Get the message?

**Grrrrwitz:** Message received. Op tomorrow nite. Dinner Friday? 

**Lorelei:** 😊 Absolutely


	6. Sometimes It's Just Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mouse and OC Laura Parker are dating and having a grand, uncomplicated time.

Deputy Commander Bryce Abernathy was a dick. Pure and simple. Even he knew it. The problem was, he was actually proud of that. Being a Deputy Commander meant that he got to wear an impressive uniform and that all his subordinates – and in the CPD there were many - had to speak respectfully and deferentially to him at all times. He loved that. He could be as rude or insulting as he wanted, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it but smile and bend over. In short, Bryce Abernathy was a bully with a fancy badge. 

And he really, really didn’t like Hank Voight. Which meant he didn’t like anyone who worked for Voight. Which meant he didn’t like this snarky girl who was Voight’s assistant, and who kept smiling and saying polite words that, he knew, really meant “Fuck you.” It was pissing him off. He’d never have the balls to take Voight on directly, but he had no qualms about squashing his support staff like the inferior life forms they were.

“Listen, Miss, I don’t think you understand. I’m telling you to give me those files. That’s a direct order, you understand what that means? There’s no ‘I’ll have to get back to you’ about it. When I give you an order, girlie, you obey it. Now shake that ass and get me those reports. Now.”

From the corner of her eye, Laura could see Mouse glaring at Abernathy. Abernathy might be a white shirt, but Mouse thought he might have to take him out for the good of the planet, and was trying to choose from among the many ways he knew to make a silent kill without spilling much blood.

“I understand, Sir, and I’m happy to get them for you. In fact, as I said, I’ve already ordered them from storage. When they arrive, I will personally messenger them to your office. I understand you need them, and how important this is to you and the work you’re doing.”

“Don’t blow smoke up my dress, little girl. You think that works with me?”

She saw Mouse get something from a drawer. She couldn’t tell what it was, but she could hear him removing whatever it was from its packaging.

“No, Sir. Of course you’re immune to sycophants.” She would have bet everything she owned that he didn’t know the meaning of that word. His momentary stammer confirmed it.

“Yes, well…”

Suddenly Mouse was standing next to Abernathy, reaching a flash drive across Laura’s desk. She took it from him, having no idea what this was about except that he had just removed the new flash drive from its packaging.

“Sir, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re working on a very important project.” He turned to Laura. “Laura, this is the information Sergeant Voight needs you to prepare for him. He just called, he’ll be back here any minute and he wants it ready when he gets here.”

Deputy Commander Abernathy began to sputter. “Now, listen here-“

Mouse went into full-on military mode. He couldn’t have been more deferential and chain-of-command if he were wearing fatigues. His entire posture was different, and he held his hands behind his back, standing at parade rest. Laura plugged in the empty flash drive and clicked and typed a bit. But she was paying no attention to what happened on the screen. She was entirely focused on the Mouse show.

“Yes, Sir, I’m aware of the nature of your mission. Perhaps I can help you so Miss Parker can get to work on that information for Sergeant Voight. As you know, Sir, the Sergeant can be a bit…volatile. I’m sure when he arrives, you wouldn’t want to have to explain to him why he doesn’t have what he needs for the operation he’s engaged in. It involves human trafficking, Sir. Very nasty stuff.”

“Oh, well, of course if that’s the case, I’ll let you get on with your business.” He was suddenly all accommodation. To Mouse, at least. When he turned back to Laura, his overstuffed swagger had returned. “I’ll expect those files the minute they become available.”

“I’ll make sure you get them, Sir.” She again smiled sweetly at him, as though he was the most charming man in the world.

“See that you do.” He turned and strutted toward the stairs to the lobby, with Mouse next to him pouring soothing bullshit in his ear. 

When he returned to the bullpen, Mouse walked, grinning crazily, back to Laura’s desk. She leaned back in her chair and looked up at him, smiling back into his ridiculously blue eyes. He leaned over and put a hand on each of the armrests of her chair, then bent his arms and lowered himself to kiss her deeply. 

“I’ll expect those files the minute they become available,” he muttered throatily against her lips.

“I’ll make sure you get them, Sir,” she half-whispered, already a little breathless. 

“See that you do,” he said, beginning to use his tongue to completely erase Deputy Commander Abernathy from her mind. 

**************

Dating Mouse was easy. It was fun. In the few months they’d been dating, Laura thought she’d laughed and played more than she had since - ever. Not that he was never serious. He was deeply romantic. They laughed and played just as much in bed as out of it, but he could also be tender and sensuous. Sometimes when he was on top of her, sliding languidly in and out of her, he would just stare deeply into her brown eyes with his blue ones, as though trying to read her mind. He brought her flowers for no apparent reason, and surprised her with silly little gifts and what he liked to call “Date Upgrades”. He would tell her that they were going to a movie and then take her to a sold-out play instead. Once they made plans to spend the weekend in his apartment doing nothing, but when he came to pick her up, he’d driven her to a cabin on Lake Michigan for three days.

Mouse wasn’t out of the woods in terms of his PTSD, either. He had nightmares and went through periods of hypervigilance and outsized reactions to loud noises and sudden movement. Laura did what she could and, when it got bad, she tried to be as understanding as she could of his need to be alone, or to spend long periods of time with Jay Halstead. Only Halstead could really understand what he was dealing with. 

Laura did not understand what happened when they got together because one was having a tough time. Jay had come to Laura’s apartment a couple of times when Mouse was staying there, and she’d let them be alone in the living room while she made herself inconspicuous in the bedroom. They barely spoke. They drank beer, just sitting, and occasionally one of them would sigh or make a noise that the other seemed telepathically to understand. A few times one of them would remind the other about something that had happened, using the minimum of words, and the other would simply grunt recognition or say something like, “Yeah, that sucked.” Erin had confirmed that it was the same when Mouse came to Erin and Jay’s apartment. It was the strangest thing Laura had ever seen, but it seemed to work to calm the monsters that occasionally got loose from their memories. 

Mouse and Laura weren’t secretive about their relationship at work, but they did keep flirting to an absolute minimum and never touched or kissed when anyone else was around. Voight seemed to have given up trying to enforce his “no dating within the team” rule, but it still seemed wise to adopt a “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach. At first, both Kim and Erin had tried to talk her out of dating someone they worked with, but those conversations lasted exactly one sentence and a pointed look from Laura. There wasn’t much either of them could say about interoffice romance with any credibility, given their histories. Besides, they liked Mouse and they liked the two of them together. 

Neither Laura nor Mouse thought they were in love. They weren’t particularly interested in being in love at that point in their lives. But they were deeply attracted to each other and had become best friends. If love happened, they’d both be happy about it, but it wasn’t on the agenda of things they thought or talked much about. They were just enjoying what they had.


	7. A Gift for B.S.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a bank robbery gone wrong, Mouse and Jay Halstead have been taken hostage and Jay has been shot. The bank robber won't deal with the cops, so OC Laura Parker uses some pretty dubious methods to negotiate their release. Sergeant Voight uses the situation to make her an offer she can't refuse.

Sergeant Voight was pacing and griping, standard procedure for him when he was working a difficult situation. “I hate this location. All these civilians, traffic, there’s about a million ways in and out of that building – this is a logistics nightmare! Anywhere else would be better.” 

He was particularly pissed because his team was supposed to be celebrating right now. Intelligence had discovered the man behind a string of bank robberies, and had even correctly figured out where he planned to strike next. That had allowed the team to set a trap, which Voight had thought was foolproof. Until the wheels came off.

Now the perp, Angus Hansen, had five hostages. Two of them were members of Voight’s team, and one of those two had been shot. Now Hansen knew they were onto him, which would make him alter his plans, and put the CPD even further from finding out what he was planning to finance with all of that cash. Intelligence was working this case because it had been obvious from the beginning that Hansen was up to something bigger than simple bank robberies.

Adding to Voight’s stress was the fact that his assistant had no business here. She wasn’t a cop. She had no training at all. And yet, not only was she here, she was trying to convince him to let her take a central role in the negotiations. 

“You gotta send me,” Laura insisted.

“You’re not trained.”

“He specifically said no cops, and he knows too much. He’s gonna know if you send a cop. Sergeant, you know this is me. You’re always telling me I got a gift for BS, right? Send me.”

“I don’t know…”

“Sergeant, this guy’s got Halstead and Mouse. I’m doing this. I will get you what you need.”

Voight looked over at District Commander Crowley, who nodded once.

Not even close to happy about the situation, Voight growled, “All right. I need to know anything you can find out about who these guys are, how many of them there are, anything we can learn that might help us end this. We know Halstead’s been shot, so we gotta get him out of there ASAP. You got all that? 

“I got all that.”

“All right, let’s get you into a vest…”

Ignoring him, Laura turned and crossed the crime scene tape marking the perimeter, walking determinedly toward the bank building. The low brown cowboy boots she wore made a thunk on the street as she went. Voight and Crowley stared after her, mouths agape at the recklessness and stupidity of what she was doing. Ruzek traded a look with Atwater and aimed the parabolic mic that would catch every word she and Hansen said.

Laura walked, hands out, slowing as she approached a car that had been driven through the front doors and now sat angled across the bank entrance. The thought flickered through her mind that making that instant barricade had actually been a pretty creative move.

A voice called out to her from behind the car. “That’s far enough.”

Laura stopped walking and stood facing the car, hands up. 

“Who are you?”

“My name is Laura.”

“You a cop?”

“You said no cops. I’m a secretary. Which means I’m not getting paid enough for this.”

She heard Hansen give a harsh laugh. “Yeah? Then how’d you end up here?”

“You have my boyfriend - my fiancé, actually - and I want him back. So I volunteered.”

“Volunteered! Your fiancé, huh? Which one is he?”

Laura frowned in confusion. “The cute one.”

Hansen stood up a little until she could see his face, but not far enough that any sniper would have a shot. He was smiling crookedly.

“I guess I’m not qualified to judge that. What’s he look like?”

“Brown hair. Prettiest blue eyes you ever saw.”

There was a slight hesitation. ”I got two in there look like that.”

“Yeah, not the cocky one. The smart one.”

Hansen actually laughed out loud at that.

“What’s his name?”

“Greg. But everybody calls him Mouse.”

Laura saw Hansen lean toward the mess of broken glass and metal that had been the front door of the bank to grunt something to a guy just inside. The guy instantly went further into the building.

“What are you doing? What’s happening?” Laura’s voice was filled with anxiety.

“I’m just checking out your story.”

Jay Halstead lay on the floor of the bank vault with a wound in his side. Mouse sat next to him, pressing his wadded-up jacket to the wound. One of Hansen’s goons bustled back to where they and the rest of the hostages were huddled on the floor of the vault, stood in the doorway and hollered much more loudly than he needed to.

“Hey, which one a you is Mouse?”

“Me. Why?”

“Guess that makes you the cocky one,” he gave Halstead a sneer. “So, Mouse, you got a girlfriend?”

”What?” Mouse’s expression was pure disgust.

“Just answer the question. You got a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. I got a girlfriend.”

“What’s her name?”

“Look…”

The goon aimed his AR-15 at Mouse. “What’s her name?”

“I am not getting her involved in this.”

“She’s already involved. She’s outside, talking for the cops. So tell me her name and what her job is. And you better get it right, because her life depends on your answers matching.”

Mouse and Jay exchange shocked and concerned looks. After a beat, Jay nodded at Mouse.

“Her name is Laura,” Mouse reluctantly answered. “She’s our Sergeant’s assistant.”

“Assistant, what’s that… like a secretary?”

“They don’t like to be called that.”

The goon left the vault, skirted the teller booth, and crossed the lobby to report to Hansen.

“OK, Laura,” Hansen called. “I guess you’re not a cop. And it’s your lucky day. The one I shot is the cocky one.”

Laura looked stunned. “What? You shot him!? That’s our best man! I need him for the wedding! You gotta let me get him to a hospital.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“Well, what if he needs surgery or something? The wedding’s in three weeks! You gotta let him go!” With each sentence, she became more hysterical.

Voight, hearing all this from his position behind the line, wondered what the hell she was doing. She had known Halstead was the one who had been shot, and as far as he knew, she and Mouse weren’t engaged. He certainly hadn’t heard anything about a wedding in three weeks. He had also never known her to get wound up like she was. 

“You really think I’m gonna fall for that? You sure you’re not a cop? You armed?” Hansen jerked a wicked-looking Sig Sauer at her.

“No! I told you. I’m a secretary.”

“Show me.”

Laura turned around to show him she wasn’t armed.

“I don’t know,” he mused. “You could have anything in those boots. Or under that dress.”

Laura gaped at him, incredulous. She gave a breathy, irritated grunt and began looking around at all the first responder vehicles surrounding the scene, the snipers on the rooftops, and the helicopters circling overhead.

“You gotta be kidding me. Every cop I work with is here. And that-” she pointed toward the sky. “Is a news helicopter.”

Hansen didn’t respond. He’d just been messing with her, but Laura huffed out an exasperated sound, rolled her eyes, and pulled off each cowboy boot in turn, shaking it out and putting it back on. To Hansen’s complete surprise, she then pulled off the pink T-shirt dress she was wearing and held it in her hand, revealing a nicely toned body in a lacy white bra and panties. She turned around again, looking annoyed the whole time. 

Outside the perimeter, Voight and Crowley looked deeply troubled. Ruzek, still holding the parabolic mic, exchanged a surprised but amused look with Atwater. Most of the cops crouching behind their cruisers were exchanging similar looks.

“All right?” Laura called to Hansen, who was smiling broadly.

“I guess you’re not armed,” he chuckled.

“And I’m probably already on YouTube. Thank you for that. Can I put my dress back on now?”

“Well I wish you wouldn’t, but go ahead.

As soon as she had dropped her dress back over her head, she began working her arms back into it, saying, “All right, show’s over. Can we get down to business?” 

She was surprised how quickly Hansen went from leering male to serious bad guy. “I want a helicopter. An SW-4. Fully fueled, and in perfect condition. Anything goes wrong, I’ll toss one of your friends out in midair.”

“And a pilot, I guess?” She asked.

“Yeah, right. I’m gonna put myself into the hands of some pilot I don’t know. Nope. Got me one of those. Which means if there’s any problem with the chopper, I’ll know. So tell the cops not to bother trying anything.”

Laura cocked her head. “You brought a helicopter pilot with you to a bank robbery?”

“I like to be prepared for contingencies.” 

“Guy who’s prepared for contingencies woulda planned his getaway better. Wouldn’t need a helicopter pilot.”

“Hey! Watch your mouth, secretary.”

“Sorry. I’m a little nervous. It’s my first hostage situation. I’m just sayin’, that’s a little weird, you just happened to bring a helicopter pilot.”

“Maybe it is,” he responded. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Well, I am worried about that. I love my fiancé. I wanna know what you got him mixed up in.”

Hansen was getting annoyed. “Your job is to take my demands and pass them on to the police. That’s your entire function here, secretary. You don’t get to ask questions.”

“Yeah, well, I’m asking. And I’m not helping you unless you tell me what’s really going on here. I need to know this is gonna come out right for Mouse. This isn’t any bank robbery, is it?”

Erin Lindsay stomped up to Voight, pulling on his arm. 

“What the hell does she think she’s doing?”

Voight turned to Crowley. “We gotta pull her outta there.”

But Crowley was frowning in concentration as she watched the scene between Laura and Hansen. “Not so fast. I think she’s… Just wait.”

Voight and Lindsey looked at her, surprised, then turned their eyes back to the front of the bank.

“Are you always such a pain in the ass?” Hansen asked Laura.

“Oh, hell yeah. Ask my boss.”

“All right, Laura, I’ll play. Yeah, I might be after a little more than money here. I’m after a little payback. But I got what I want, and now I just need a ride outta here. So let’s get that helicopter going. All right? 

“Fair enough. So that helicopter. A what, now?”

“SW-4. Write it down.”

Laura put a hand on her hip. “I just stripped down to my skivvies in front of you and every cop in Chicago. You see a pen?”

“You know, you got a mouth on you.” Despite his words, Hansen was grinning again.

“OK, SW-4. That news chopper up there, that’s an SW-4, right?”

“I wouldn’t know. Pilot says we need an SW-4, you get us an SW-4.”

“Unfortunately, I do know. Mouse, he’s into aircraft. I try to look interested. Thing is, an SW-4 is a pretty small chopper. 6-seater. I thought I saw more guys than that. And if you’re planning to bring any hostages with you… You sure that’s all you need?” 

Hansen made a signal to the goon just inside, muttered something, and waited for a response before turning back to Laura.

“All right, here’s the deal. Get us one with a cargo setup. No seats in the back, ya know?”

“Cargo setup. Still not a lot of room…”

“You worried your boyfriend won’t be comfortable? Five guys, five hostages, we’ll be fine. Now quit asking questions and get me my chopper.”

“All right. Let me go tell my boss.”

“You walk toward them. I’ll tell you when you’re close enough. Yelling distance. I want to know what you say and I’m not letting anybody hand you a weapon.”

People were already scrambling among the many police vehicles parked all over the street when Laura turned around and began walking toward Voight. Voight turned to Lindsay and Crowley.

“All right, 5 perps. At least 5 hostages. Make sure SWAT knows.”

As Lindsay hustled toward a huge black tactical van, Voight and Crowley shared a look.

“Huh,” Voight said, raising an eyebrow as he looked back toward Laura. 

She walked slowly, arms out so Hansen could see her hands, toward where Voight and Crowley stood. She was looking around as though searching for something. When she had gone several steps, she turned her head back toward Hansen, a quizzical expression on her face.

“Where?” She called to him.

“What?”

“Where do you want a helicopter? Can’t land one here - you got every cop in the world clogging up the street. All these buildings, power lines…”

Hansen shrugged. “So they land it on the roof.” 

Laura looked up at the roof of the bank building.

“I count four snipers up there right now. And those are just the ones I can see. And I know my boss. He’s had this building full of cops since five minutes after we got the call. A million places to hide. You’d never make it to the roof.”

“Hey, what is this? What are you doing?”

“Look, I love my fiancé! I don’t want to get him back with a bunch of holes in him, OK? You try to get from there to a helicopter, you put him in the middle of a firefight. And I work for the cops. I’ve seen these guys’ scores from the shooting range. They’re not as good as you might think. You need a helicopter in a field or something. Where you can see everywhere. Nowhere for snipers to hide, or anyone to sneak up on you. No firefight. And I think I got an idea how you can make that happen.”

Hansen sounded angry, but intrigued. “Why the hell would I listen to you?” 

“Look, I’m so fired already – none of this is what I was supposed to say to you. So I’m gonna tell you something else I shouldn’t. The city’s got these bulletproof cars they use to haul bigwigs around. They don’t talk about them because they cost about a million bucks each. But they got ‘em. You ask for some of those. They drive right up to the door, no way the snipers can get a shot. You get in, you drive to the field with the helicopter, nice and safe in your bulletproof cars. You drive right up to the helicopter, leave the hostages in the cars and you fly away.” 

Laura could see that Hansen was conferring with the goon nearest him, and she noticed a few more of the bank robbers come over to stand nearby. 

Voight tapped Crowley’s arm with his own. “And now she’s got them leaving the building.”

“Who is she again?” Crowley asked.

Hansen and his team appeared to have completed their consultation. 

“So?” Laura called to Hansen.

“All right,” he said. “We might do it your way. But there’s a condition.”

“What condition?”

“I like you, Laura. You come with us. That way I know you’re not playing me.”

“Wait, what? I’m not gonna do that.”

“You want your boyfriend back?”

“Of course I want my boyfriend back! But I’m not going with you.”

“Then we don’t have a deal.”

Laura hesitated, then furiously stamped her foot, throwing her head back as though at the end of her rope and looking to Heaven for answers. 

“Could this day suck more? You kidnap my fiancé, get me fired, put me on YouTube in my underwear, and now you want me to be your hostage? Well, I’m not doing it for nothing. You gotta give me something. You gotta let my fiancé go.”

Lindsay had returned to stand next to Voight just behind the crime scene tape. “What the hell!! She was supposed to get Jay out! He’s the one who’s been shot!”

“Hang on, Erin,” Voight muttered. “I think I know what she’s doing.”

Hansen shrugged. “Not gonna happen, Laura. He’s the one you care about. I let him go, that’s the last cooperation I get from you.”

“Oh, come on!!!” Laura shouted in exasperation, stamping her foot again. After a long pause, she sighed with resignation. “Fine. Then give me our best man. I get a cop released, maybe I won’t get fired, or get some severance pay, or something. They get him to a hospital, maybe he’ll be OK for the wedding.”

Hansen didn’t answer right away. He looked around at the scene, considering.

“Come on, man,” Laura persisted. “You’re getting me, right? And now that you shot him, he’s not exactly, you know… portable, is he?”

“All right, secretary. Looks like you got yourself a deal.”

An awkward silence followed, during which Laura looked around, uncertain.

“So… what? Do they drive an ambulance up, or…?”

“An ambulance full of SWAT guys? I don’t think so.”

“OK … how about one of those stretcher things?”

At that moment, two of Hansen’s guys came out of what was left of the front door with Halstead between them, holding him up. They skirted the ruined front of the car and shoved him ahead of them, onto the sidewalk, where he fell to the ground.

“Nope,” Hansen said, grinning cruelly. “But I’ll let you help him part of the way over to the cops.”

Laura hurried over to Halstead and, with difficulty, helped him to his feet. She put his arm over her shoulder so she could support him, then looked over at Hansen where he still crouched behind the car.

“That was a dick move.”

Hansen just smirked as Laura and Halstead began to make their slow, halting way across the street.

“The cocky one?” Halstead grunted quietly.

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.”

“I got a tracking device in my pocket,” he muttered under his breath.

“Can you drop it into my boot?”

“I don’t think so,” he answered, grimacing in pain. “But I got an idea.” 

His knees suddenly gave out and he fell, tossing a small, black disc just in front of Laura’s left foot. She fell with him, her hand landing on the disc, which she dropped into her boot as she helped Halstead get back up.

As they continued to make their way to the police line, Laura whispered, “That guy said this was more than just a bank robbery. He also said he “got what he came for.” You think this might be about one of the hostages?”

“I don’t know, but they did seem to be treating one guy worse than everyone else. I’ll tell Voight. You sure you want to go through with this?”

“You’re saying that like I have a choice.”

They moved forward until Hansen yelled, “That’s far enough, Laura. Now leave him there and you come back.”

Laura helped Halstead steady himself so he could stand until Hansen allowed the paramedics to come get him. “You good?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Tell Voight to do some of that cop stuff. It’s up to him now.”

*******

Late that evening, when between the Intelligence and SWAT teams, they had managed to find a way to thwart Hansen’s escape and take him and his gang into custody, the Intelligence team, minus Lindsay and Halstead who were at the hospital, gathered in the bullpen. Ruzek and Atwater were showing Laura that they had made a picture of her in her underwear at the hostage scene into the background on their phones.

“You know what,” Laura choked between laughs. “I’m not even mad. I look good.”

“Yeah, you do,” Mouse agreed, giving her a squeeze. “But I wanna know why I got engaged and I wasn’t even there.”

“Obvious,” Laura said. “The guy shot Halstead. I had to give a plausible explanation why anyone would care about that.”

They were still laughing as Voight, Crowley, and a guy in a police captain’s uniform came up the stairs. The group fell silent as they walked past and into Voight’s office.

“I think that guy is one of the bigwigs from the Academy,” Ruzek whispered.

Laura asked quietly, “How much brass does it take to fire one secretary?”

Within minutes, Voight stood at the door of his office calling for Laura. She looked scared as the rest of the team wished her good luck. She walked into the office and Voight shut the door. The team could see her shaking hands with Crowley and the captain from the Police Academy.

Laura took a deep breath. “Before you say anything, I’d like to apologize for my actions today. I’m very sorry that I embarrassed the Department, and you, Sergeant. That was not my intention.”

“Have a seat,” Voight said, indicating a chair. She sat on the edge, folding her hands in her lap and looking from face to face.

“Ms. Parker,” District Commander Crowley said, “Let me put you out of your misery. We are not here to fire you.”

Laura could only stare at her, stunned.

Voight continued the discussion. “You got Jay released, got us the intel we needed, and got them out of that building. You did good.”

“I don’t understand. Then what…?”

“You have cop instincts,” Voight said. “This is not the first time you’ve shown that.”

“Wait…”

Crowley said, “Sergeant Voight tells us that you have made it clear you are not interested in becoming a police officer. After what I saw today, I have to agree with him that you should re-think that decision.”

“A police… wait, were we all at the same scene today?”

“Ms. Parker, you bumbled into that scene like a moron, not even wearing a bulletproof vest or waiting to finish your briefing. That was disgraceful.” The captain from the Academy scowled at her. “But you did it without hesitation, and you got the job done. Not only that, you read that guy. You saw how he reacted to you, and gauged your moves to his. That’s not something that can be taught. Students pass my class every year who couldn’t do what you did today. I’m not saying that your methods today were anything we teach at the Academy, but… You’re a natural.”

Voight took over again. “The Department is offering you a position in the next Academy class. You’ve already passed the background checks and references aren’t going to be a problem. So you pass the psych evals and you’re in.”

Crowley leaned toward Laura, her eyes hard, but with a sparkle of something good behind them. “You will still work for Sergeant Voight when you’re not in training. And let me be clear about this. We’re not here to take no for an answer. Your only other option is to be out of a job entirely.” 

As the other members of the Intelligence unit watched through the window of Voight’s office, they saw Laura shake hands with Crowley and the guy from the Academy, who quickly exited the office and disappeared down the stairs. 

Laura moved toward the door of Voight’s office, but stopped in the doorway to look suspiciously back at him.

“Looks like you got what you wanted, after all,” she said. “Did I just get played?”

“Get out of my office,” said Voight, smiling broadly.


	8. When The Past Is Not The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of nowhere, Peter Stone walks back into OC Laura Parker's life, looking better than ever.

Laura’s desk phone rang, startling her a little as it jerked her out of total concentration on the dictation she was transcribing. “Parker.”

She heard Sergeant Platt’s no-nonsense growl in her ear. “ASA is here to see Voight. He must’ve called in a favor. They sent an Assistant Bureau Chief.”

“Nice. He’ll be happy.”

“Voight’s happy, we’re all happy.”

“Testify, sister. I’ll be right down.”

Getting up from her desk, Laura glanced back at the window into her boss’s office. She saw that he had caught her movement and was looking at her through the glass. He returned her subtle nod - he was ready for her to bring the Assistant State’s Attorney in.

Not surprising, since the case was a particularly ugly one, even for Voight’s unit. He wanted a conviction. Bad. He had pulled strings to make sure the ASA assigned was someone tough and experienced; someone who could be counted on to put the scumbag away.

She headed down the stairs and through the security gate. As she turned and descended the second flight, she looked out into the lobby to identify the person she was there to escort upstairs. Although she didn’t know whether they’d assigned a man or a woman, she figured an ASA senior enough for this case would be easy to spot in a lobby full of uniformed cops, cuffed suspects, and the occasional uncomfortable victim or witness anxious to complete their business and get out of there.

She froze there on the last step. Her heart did a sickening flip-flop. She felt the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand up. It was as though her body recognized him an instant before her mind caught up and she whispered an involuntary, "Peter.”

She stood, unmoving, staring at the tall, beautiful man standing near Sergeant Platt behind her desk. She took in his tailored suit, his well-cut hair, the air of confidence bordering on arrogance he projected… His shoes and the briefcase he casually held looked like they cost more than her car. But it was the way he stood, the way his suit subtly revealed hints of his muscular, athletic build, and the contours of his strong, masculine profile that stirred a deep, almost physical sense of longing in her.

She helplessly drank him in. She knew she was doing it. She wouldn’t have been able to stop herself, even if the thought had occurred to her. The pain of missing Peter had lessened over time into a constant, gnawing ache, but that was only a matter of degree. Although it was no longer the screaming agony of the first months, it still hurt like hell. Simply being able to look at him like this felt like a warm blanket.

Only when she sensed Sergeant Platt’s eyes on her did Laura reluctantly fumble her way back to her senses. She didn’t know what Platt had seen, but she knew for sure it was more than she wanted Platt to see.

“Peter.“ Laura said again, this time aloud. Her voice came out quieter than she intended. Somewhere below consciousness, she felt a sweet twinge just saying his name.

As he turned toward her, his shock at recognizing her was undisguised. He missed a beat - two - before uttering a stunned, quietly gasped, "Laura!”

He crossed the lobby toward her. His face registered the same confusion she felt, but a look that she could interpret only as joy lit his features. He smiled broadly even as he cocked his eyebrows questioningly.

She couldn’t help but smile back. Here was Peter, right in front of her, more beautiful than even in her most loving memories, walking toward her and smiling as though a wish was coming true.

He stopped as he reached her, suddenly unsure how to greet her. They simply stood there for a long moment, smiling at one another.

“Hi,” she finally said with a soft, self-conscious laugh.

He chuckled. “Hi.”

After another moment, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m Sergeant Voight’s assistant,” she answered in a tone that clearly communicated her knowledge that this would need explanation at some point. 

“Are you a cop?” He asked incredulously. He shook his head, taking it in.

“Almost. I have another month before graduation. So, Assistant Bureau Chief. Impressive.”

Peter shrugged. “I work too much.” 

His expression changed then; became more serious as he looked closely at her. His voice grew a little softer. "You look amazing. You look… healthy. Glowing.”

“It’s OK., she said gently. "You can say sober.”

He hesitated. “Are you?” The cautious hope in his voice touched her.

“Ever since that night. A little over four years now.”

“Laura, that’s… that’s the best news I think I ever heard.” He almost controlled the quiver in his voice. Did his eyes get a little moist?

She titled her head, cocking an eyebrow in a mocking expression she had used on him a thousand times. “Really? What about ‘Congratulations, you’re gonna pitch for the Chicago Cubs?’” 

He didn’t smile. “If it’s number two, it’s a close call. It’s the answer to about a million prayers.”

Now it was she who turned serious. “You prayed for me?”

“Of course I do.” 

“Thank you,” she said softly, looking fully into his eyes.

There was no awkwardness or hesitation in the way they reached out to wrap their arms around one another. Their embrace was warm and affectionate. They stood holding each other for what seemed a long time. Laura felt the firmness of his body and scented the achingly familiar smell of Peter. Her Peter. She fought the urge to turn her head into his neck and fill her lungs with it. 

Realizing that she had been holding him long enough to attract attention from a few in the lobby jerked Laura sharply back to the situation. He wasn’t hers. Despite his extraordinary patience, his overwhelming generosity, she had eventually driven even him away. With four years to get over any residual feeling he could have had for her, these days he must wonder what the hell he could have been thinking to stay as long as he did. To try as hard as he had. What had he ever seen in her, anyway? She wondered how he could have smiled at her at all, let alone hug her. The surprise he’d felt at seeing her out of the blue, and in such an unexpected place, must have temporarily pushed aside the contempt he must have for her now. But he would remember. 

She pulled back. “You look good, too,” she sputtered.

He looked at her with a mocking tilt of his head. “Aren’t you going to tell me my hair’s too short?”

Catching the mood, she replied, “Your hair _is_ too short. But you don’t need me to tell you that.”

The so-familiar rhythm of this exchange and the fond look he was beaming down on her actually hurt. She knew any second it would turn to disgust as he recovered from his surprise at her sudden appearance and remembered what she had been. She needed to be out of sight when that happened.

“Well, we should get going.” She turned to start up the stairs.

“Yeah, but…” Peter began.

She cut him off as she triggered the handprint scanner and opened the security gate. “Sergeant Voigt – he’s not very good at waiting.” 

Laura stepped through the gate and turned to take the short second staircase rapidly, practically running away from him. She glanced once, fleetingly, to be sure he was following, then strode across the bullpen floor toward Voight’s office. As she passed her desk, she picked up a thick, ragged folder from one corner. 

To Laura’s relief, Sergeant Voight was standing just outside his office door, ready to greet Peter. He reached out to shake Peter’s hand as they reached him. 

“Stone. Thanks for taking this case.”

“Jeffries didn’t give me a lot of choice.” Peter turned his head to say something to Laura, but Voight got there first.

She reached out and handed him the file she had retrieved, as he said “I’m gonna need the Wilkinson fi-.” He gave a slight smirk. “Thank you.”

“Well,” he said, turning back to Peter. “Let’s get to it.” Voight pivoted and stepped into his office. Peter followed, looking back at Laura. But she had turned away and was doing something with papers on her desk, as though she had already forgotten him. He walked past Voight into the office, and Voight swung the door closed. Peter didn’t see Laura look up, staring hungrily at his back through the window, before leaving her desk to head toward the hallway that led to the interrogation rooms.

Laura burst through the door to the locker room on the other side of the hall. She paced around for a moment, her arms wrapped around her middle, before finally stopping at a rear wall of the room. She turned her back to the tile and slid down the wall so that she was sitting on the floor, clasping her legs tightly into her body. She lowered her head to her knees. “Fuck. FUCK! Why did it have to be Peter?” She allowed herself a few tears.

The locker room door opened and, seconds later, Erin Lindsey appeared around the bank of lockers that shielded Laura from the rest of the room. 

“What was that about?”

Laura hesitated, looking up at her. “What was what about?”

Erin rolled her eyes and sat on the end of the bench between the rows of lockers, hunching down toward Laura. “Yeah, right.” She pointed to herself. “Detective.” She gave a quiet laugh, then asked gently, “What’s with you and ASA Stone?”

Laura leaned the back of her head against the wall, closing her eyes and giving a long sigh. Moments went by before she spoke. “Remember I told you I lost everything because of my drinking?”

“Yeah,” Erin replied. “Was Peter Stone part of ‘everything’?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Laura muttered sadly. Another deep sigh. She shook her head. “Fuck! I thought he’d gone back to New York.”

Erin looked hard at Laura. “You said that boyfriend - the one who left you – you said you were together a long time. Years.”

Laura sighed again. “We met in college. Well, I was in college. He was in law school. We were together eight years. Lived together for six. Before I fucked it all up,” she added, resting her head back on her knees and hiding her face. “I thought I’d never see him again.”

The door opened again. This time, Kim Burgess came around the end of the row of lockers. Taking in the scene, she leaned against a locker, saying nothing.

“Laura’s ex, the one who broke up with her because of her drinking? It was Peter Stone.” Erin told Kim. “She didn’t know he was still in Chicago until right this minute.”

Kim moved to the wall and slid down next to Laura, putting an arm around her. “Shit. Sorry. That’s gotta suck.” After a short silence, she added, “Peter Stone, huh? Small world.” 

“Fuck,” was all Laura said, shaking her head against her knees. Her voice was ragged. 

Minutes passed in silence.

“He’s the ASA that put Voight away, did you know that?” Erin asked after a while. “Kinda weird how they’re sorta allies now. You know, Laura, I never really thought about it before, but he’s hot as fuck. I can see why you liked him.”

“True, but not particularly helpful”, Kim said, giving Erin a look of friendly disapproval.

“Definitely not helpful,” Laura muttered, misunderstanding. “Why couldn’t he have gotten fat or gone bald or something? Ugly tie. Anything.”

“They never do,” Kim responded. “Assholes.” 

Again, long moments passed with no one speaking. Erin and Kim simply stayed there, silently supporting Laura in a situation they’d all been through, in one form or another. Loving someone unavailable, yet an arm’s length away, was nothing new to either Erin or Kim. They didn’t push. 

Laura finally looked up. She was making an obvious effort to compose herself. “I’m OK. I’ll be OK. I just didn’t expect to see him, and I… just… It was a shock. I wasn’t ready for it. But it’s fine. Peter was a long time ago. Another life. I’m dating Mouse now, and I’m sober, and my life is nothing like it was back then.” She took a deep breath and blew it out, straightening up. “Crisis averted. Back to the real world.” 

The three got up. Laura straightened her hair and clothes, heading for the door. Erin and Kim shared a look behind her back as they followed, silently acknowledging that neither was entirely sure the crisis had been averted. Time would tell. Both noticed that Laura did not head back to her desk, outside the room where Peter was now sitting. She turned in the opposite direction, toward the tech room on the floor below.


	9. The Ninth Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone and OC Laura Parker have a heart-to-heart talk about their breakup.

The light tap on his office door was unexpected. It was after 6 p.m. Much more unexpected was seeing Laura standing in the doorway, looking nervous and uncertain.

“Laura! Come in,” he motioned, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

She took a few steps into his office, but remained near the door. She self-consciously played with her earring, as she always did when she was uncomfortable. 

“I wanted to say thank you. For today. That guy really needed to go away.” She cocked an eyebrow at him, a small grin lifting her lips. “You got good.”

Peter scoffed lightly, dismissing the compliment. “I wasn’t sure there for a while. I’m just glad it came out right.” 

Laura took a few more tentative steps toward him. “And I wanted to apologize to you for being so…” her voice faltered. She shrugged, unable to find the right words. “I never expected to see you again, and I just… It was weird.”

Peter came around his desk, taking a step past her to close the door. He walked back toward his desk and took a half-sitting position on its edge. “No apology necessary. I was surprised, too.”

An awkward silence descended. Laura’s gaze darted around the office as she again fiddled with her earring. He had very rarely seen her tongue-tied, as she was now. 

“Look, do you want to maybe get a cup of coffee or something?” He tried.

She looked up, vague alarm in her eyes. “Um… I can’t, really. I have a…”

“Boyfriend. I know.” 

Starled, she suddenly looked him full in the face. “Well, yeah… that, too. But I was going to say I have a date with the team. We’re going to Molly’s, to celebrate. You should come. You’d be the guest of honor.”

“I don’t think so,” Peter answered, shaking his head. “It’s been a long week.” _And I don’t think I’m up for drinks with you and your boyfriend_, he didn’t say.

Another awkward pause in the conversation descended. Finally, Peter said, “I have something for you. Well… of yours.” He went to the back of his desk and took a small box out of the drawer. Returning to his previous spot, he handed it to her. “I found it in my stuff. I kept it for you.”

It was a small, plain white cardboard box. She lifted the lid to see a small gold locket with a broken clasp. A locket Peter had given her for their first anniversary. She had cherished it, so when the clasp had broken, he had taken it from her, meaning to have it repaired. Seeing it now invoked a wave of memories and feelings that felt to Laura like a body blow. “Well, that’s just… confusing.”

Peter made an unpleasant, derisive sound, entirely misconstruing her meaning. “I know, right? Satan, doing the right thing.”

Laura’s head jerked up. “I never thought you were Satan.”

“Yeah? Well I did. Anyway, there’s your necklace, if you still want it.”

She stood looking at him, studying his expression. All awkwardness between them had suddenly evaporated. “Whoa. That sounds like a lot of guilt. Careful, that stuff’ll kill you.”

Her attempt at a lighthearted tone did nothing to change his troubled expression. He said nothing.

“Peter, seriously, that guilt is so misplaced. I’m the monster in this scenario. Not you.”

“I think a lot of people would disagree. What kind of a dick cuts and runs when the woman he loves needs him the most?”

“That’s not what you did.”

“That’s exactly what I did.” 

“Peter. I’m an alcoholic. You didn’t cause that, and you couldn’t fix it.”

He looked into her eyes, shame and something much deeper clouding his green gaze. “I would have done anything.” There was real anguish in his voice.

Laura took a step toward him. Her voice was practically a whisper. “I know that.”

For a moment, it seemed as if they would embrace. Laura shook her head and said, again trying to sound lighthearted, “We don’t need to talk about this.”

Peter stood up. “I do need to talk about this! The last time I saw you, you were half-dead in a hospital and I was walking out on you. That was the worst day of my life, Laura, and it was only two days after the worst night of my life.”

He began to pace the room. “You don’t remember that night. I do. How your so-called friends dumped you on our doorstep, barely conscious and covered in blood. How I carried you into the bathroom, trying to figure out where you were hurt. But then you threw up, and it was nothing but blood.”

Laura winced. Peter went on, lost in the memory of that night.

“And then you just… went quiet. You were barely breathing, and I was so scared… I called an ambulance, but I had no idea what else to do. So I just held you. And there we were, on the bathroom floor at 3 a.m., covered in blood. And I’m cradling you in my arms, sobbing and begging God not to let you die.”

His last words stunned her. “That was real? I thought I dreamed that,” she said, disconcerted.

Peter didn’t even hear her. “The ER doc told me if I hadn’t called when I did, you would have died there, in my arms. He said not only did you have a perforated ulcer, but your blood alcohol level was lethal.” He stopped pacing, turning to face her. “And that’s when I knew. I was never going to be able to save you.”

“It was never your job to!” Laura shouted at him. “I was the one with the keys. I was the only one who could help me, and I knew that. Of all the ways I mistreated you, one of the worst was ever letting you think anything different.” She put a hand on his arm, guiding him back to sitting on the edge of his desk so that they were on eye level with one another. 

“Listen to me. You saved my life twice that night. Once was getting me to the hospital. And the second time, Peter, the second time you saved my life was when you left me there.”

Peter’s expression told her he heard her, but was entirely unconvinced. “You were in the hospital! You had just had surgery! What the fuck was I thinking?”

“I know exactly what you were thinking. Did you think I didn’t? You did it in the hospital because you knew I would be safe. I couldn’t drink if I wanted to. And my parents were there. There was no way for me to go on a bender and blame it on you. And you were right. And it worked.”

Now he was listening, considering her words. 

She continued, her voice quiet but intense, soothing. “When you left, my choices were get sober or die. Some people, that’s what it takes. Turns out, I’m one of those people. So you did the right thing.” She smiled sadly. “Like you always do,” she added.

He reached out, pulling her into his arms. She stood between his legs, hugging him to her as fiercely as he held her. The tears that had been building spilled over, and she let herself go. For long moments, they simply held each other, both crying hard. 

Peter muttered into her shoulder, “Aaaaw, Sunshine… when I saw you on those stairs, looking so beautiful and strong, I just about fell to my knees.”

Laura sobbed. “God, Peter, I am so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for every time I hurt you. You didn’t deserve it, you were so good to me. I couldn’t stop hurting you, and I hated myself so much for that. God, I’m sorry…” 

He smoothed a hand over her hair. “I know. Shhhhh. It’s over now. I forgive you.”

If anything, that made her cry harder. “How can you?” She moaned. 

“Shhhhhhhhh…” he soothed. “You were sick, I know that. I know you didn’t mean it. I know how hard you tried…”

They remained there, Peter on the edge of his desk, Laura standing before him, arms entwined around one another, as they slowly gained control of their emotions. 

“There aren’t enough words for all the apologies I owe you.”

“Not anymore. I’ve forgiven you.”

She seemed a little skeptical, but shrugged it off. “And what about you? Are you going to forgive yourself? Seems like you’ve been carrying around a lot of guilt that doesn’t belong to you.”

“I’ll work on it,” he said, pulling her back to him.

Eventually, they separated, each wiping tears and trying to repair their appearance as best they could.

“I should go,” she said.

“Thank you. Thank you for coming to talk to me. I really needed to talk to you.”

“Me, too. That’s why I came. Even though I expected you to throw me out. Sure you don’t want to come to Molly’s?”

“I’m sure,” he replied.

“OK, then,” she put her hands in her pockets and shrugged, again somewhat ill at ease. “I’ll – see you, I guess.”

“I hope so,” he responded as she backed a few steps, then turned to open his office door. 

“Good night, Peter,” she said.

“Good night, Sunshine.”


	10. Some Heartbreak Is Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone and OC Laura Parker enjoy Sunday brunch together. They acknowledge that they're still in love, but have too much baggage in their past to have a future together.

The church smelled faintly of incense, which Laura thought must be what Heaven smelled like. She loved this old church, full of young families, impatient professional couples, and elderly widows who still wore veils to Mass. Every Sunday when she came here, she felt like Chicago, and Intelligence, and everything difficult in her life, were very far away. As she knelt, she brought her troubles to God, whom she had made well aware of Peter’s return to her life.

She prayed for guidance, and for strength. As much as she would always love Peter, as strong as his pull still was to her, she knew it was too late for them. She’d simply put too much ugliness between them. What she didn’t know was whether he felt the same way. 

For a moment, she thought she’d been praying so hard about Peter that her mind had tricked her into smelling his familiar scent. Until she turned her head to see him, stooping to kneel next to her and crossing himself. 

She looked the question at him. 

“Talked someone into giving me your address. I’m charming like that.”

“And the church? The Mass time?”

“You like to walk to church, and you don’t like to get up early. _Res ipsa loquitur_.” 

She frowned. “Did you just call me predictable?”

Peter pointed to the altar as the entrance hymn began, shooting a sexy look of mock disapproval at her. “Shhh. Pay attention.”

********

When Mass was over, Peter and Laura walked out the front doors into the warm spring sunshine. He looked up at the few puffy clouds floating through the sky and took a lungful of the fragrant air. 

“It’s a beautiful day. Take you to brunch?” 

Laura shrugged. “OK.” 

“Yeah?”

“Sure. You expected me to say no, and no woman wants to be thought predictable.”

Peter chuckled. “I guess women have gone out with me for worse reasons. I think…”

They walked side by side down the street. It felt odd to both of them not to be holding hands.

********

They chose a table in front of the bistro, along the sidewalk behind a wrought-iron fence. They kept the conversation light, both sensing they’d talked about enough tough stuff for a while. The longer they talked, the more comfortable and familiar it became, but only to a point. Peter was disoriented by an unexplainable sense that it was Laura sitting across from him, but not the Laura he had known. 

She’d been a skeletal mess when he’d left. Now, she’d regained her looks and the body he’d been obsessed with. Much more important to him, she had regained the spark she’d lost, along with her sweetness and cheekiness. Laura was naturally happy and spunky as hell, which is why he’d fallen for her in the first place. She was the anti-Stone. When he met her at Northwestern, he’d pulled his head out of his ass enough to figure out his next moves, but he was still wallowing in self-pity about the loss of his identity as a baseball player. Until Laura. 

She’d known zero about baseball, and cared less. She’d never even heard of him. As a result, she couldn’t have seen him as a failed baseball player if she’d wanted to. She only saw the future attorney. She’d appreciated his body for its beauty and what it could make her feel, not for things he could no longer do. The things that impressed her about him were things like his thoughtfulness and intelligence; she appreciated tales of his past glory only because they were stories about him. She understood his grief. What she didn’t understand was those who could value him solely for what he had done in the past, when she was so much more interested in who he currently was.

Being with Laura had done far more for him than the therapist the team had advised him to see. She’d taught him how to appreciate his former career as a rare experience he’d been fortunate enough to have, rather than as his identity. He felt like she’d turned the lights back on in his life, so he’d started to call her Sunshine, and had never stopped. 

All of that was still true. But he couldn’t shake the sense that there was something fundamentally different about her. 

“So,” he said, “Saburo Moritani.”

“Really? You wanna start a fight already?” 

He laughed out loud. “You’re not a fan.”

“Of course I’m not a fan. And of course you are.”

“Of course,” he repeated. 

“C’mon, Peter. That wind-up? Ridiculous. He doesn’t get any momentum out of that. It’s a show. Which is why he has no speed.” 

“And what did I teach you about speed?”

“That it’s secondary to accuracy and the ability to fool a batter, neither of which Moritani has!”

“Aaaugh! How does such a promising student go so wrong?”

The conversation was boisterous and punctuated with a lot of laughter as they talked and argued about baseball. Peter had enjoyed the hell out of teaching Laura the game, and it had only become more fun when she learned enough to start developing opinions of her own, misguided though they might be. Ultimately, however, they moved on to more sensitive subjects closer to the one they were both carefully avoiding.

“So. Boyfriend, huh?”

Laura played with the crust of a piece of toast. “Yeah. Greg. He’s a good guy.”

“He treat you right?”

“You think I’d be dating him if he didn’t?”

He didn’t smile. “It’s a fair question.”

“No, it isn’t. I mean it, Peter. I’m not letting you get away with blaming yourself for anything that happened with you and me.”

Now it was him that avoided her eyes. “Old habit.”

“Well, break it. You got that?”

He looked up. “Do you love him?”

Laura shrugged. “I… like him a lot. He’s funny. Geeky, like me. But love… I’m not really in the market for that right now. I don’t think he is, either. How about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

His lips twisted into a rueful grin and he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know… I have dates, but… there’s no one special. You’re a hard act to follow.”

“If you’re looking for a relationship like ours, you should probably be trolling at Logan. All the female thieves and predators in Illinois, in one convenient location. A buffet of criminal abusers.”

Again, he didn’t smile. “If I don’t get to blame myself, neither do you.”

“Peter, I am to blame.”

He sighed and looked over her head at some far away spot. For a long time, he didn’t say anything, just looked sadly into the distance. 

“Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. We were having fun.”

“I was happy, you know. Maybe things were tough at the end, but… I was happy until then.”

“I was happy, too,” she said softly, taking his hand. “We were good together. For a while.”

“For a while…” he echoed. “You’re not coming back, are you?” It wasn’t really a question.

“You know I can’t. Too much baggage. And you don’t want me back.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She was still holding his hand, and he turned it over so their fingers intertwined. “How would you put it?”

He frowned, thinking. “I’d say… I want to go back and have things come out differently. But since that isn’t an option…” 

They smiled sadly at one another. 

“Do you think two people who have been where we’ve been can be just friends? Is that even possible?” He asked.

“I know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I know I want you to be happy.” 

“Me, too.”

“Then fuck ‘em. If it’s impossible, let’s do it anyway.”

Although they smiled at each other, they were both feeling the deep sadness that comes with realizing that, once things change, you can never go back again.


	11. Worse Comes To Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OC Laura Parker is the victim of a terrible, life-changing crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic descriptions of violence and its aftermath

Laura had no business in any other bar, but she was safe at Molly’s. It was the last bar on the planet that would ever serve her alcohol, even if she asked for it. Everyone knew which of their colleagues were in recovery, and no one would have let them drink. Laura was no exception.

There was nothing like walking into Molly’s as a full-fledged CPD officer. Sure, six months after graduating the Academy, Laura was the rawest of rookies, still working a beat with an experienced officer to train her. But she was a cop. One of them. She was so proud of that, she would sometimes wear her uniform into Molly’s even though she really had time to change. Tonight, however, she was wearing simple jeans and a round-necked pullover.

Otis liked to tease her when he saw her in uniform, which was another reason she sometimes wore it to Molly’s. She would definitely have been interested in Otis if she weren’t dating Mouse and he weren’t dating Lily. As things were, they just enjoyed a harmless flirtation.

“Hey, Officer,” Otis called to her from behind the bar, shouting to be heard over the clamor of the crowd. “The usual?”

“Let’s switch it up. I’ll have a seltzer.”

“You’re not driving, are ya’?” Otis pulled a glass from a shelf and scooped ice into it.

“No worries, I’m walking. Hey, can I get you to autograph my ‘firefighter of the month’ calendar? You’re September, right?”

He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. “And March. And for you, I’ll sign ‘em both.”

As he handed her drink over the bar, he said, “You’re walking? That’s a little dangerous, isn’t it? With that maniac out there?”

“I learned moves in the Academy that would give him nightmares. I got it covered.” She winked.

The bar was crowded, mostly with first responders, as she made her way to the table where the man of the hour was sitting. Laura just had time for one drink before she had to head home for Mouse’s big dinner surprise. He had been talking it up for days and she was looking forward to whatever he had planned, but she’d had to stop by Molly’s because one of the guys from District 21 was celebrating twenty years on the force. 

She congratulated him and spent the next half hour enjoying the camaraderie of the place. Although there was the usual amount of laughing and gossip, tonight most conversations tended to end up on the subject of the serial rapist and murderer currently terrorizing the city. The bastard raped his victims both before and after he killed them. Everyone wanted the guy taken down, and everyone was frustrated at the lack of leads the CPD had. Women all over the city were buying pepper spray and rape whistles. 

Despite some good-natured grumbling about her leaving early, and teasing about being obedient to Mouse, Laura said goodbye to the assembled cops and turned for the door. Olinsky, sitting at one of the tables between her and the door, put a hand out and caught Laura’s arm as she passed.

“Hey, you goin’ home?”

“Yeah, remember? Tonight’s Mouse’s big gourmet extravaganza.”

“You walking?”

“Yeah.”

“Who’s going with you?”

“I’ll be fine, Al.”

Olinsky stood. “No, no, I’m coming with you.”

“C’mon, Olinsky. You’re three sheets to the wind. If he tries anything, the only way you’re gonna be helpful is if I throw you at him. Stay here. It’s all good.”

“Look, you got two choices,” he said, getting in her face as though he were her father. “You either let me walk you home, or you promise to text me when you get there.” 

“Fair enough. It’s only a few blocks. I’ll be home in less than half an hour and I will text you,” she said, with mock seriousness. She hugged him briefly before she headed out into the night.

********

As she walked down the darkened street, Laura called Mouse. 

“Hey, babe, I’m on my way home.” 

“Great! I’ll see you in a few. I’m at a very delicate stage of the process right now, so I gotta hang up. Gotta get my Julia Child on.” 

They both laughed as they said goodbye.

She was still smiling as she dropped her phone back into her purse. As she did, a huge hand grabbed her arm, swinging her around. As her momentum was still carrying her toward the man behind her, she saw his fist coming at her. Her body swung into the punch, with all its weight behind it, at the same time the massive fist crashed explosively into her face. 

The world went a very dark, murky shade of red.

********

Al Olinsky was taciturn by nature, preferring to watch and listen rather than call attention to himself. Although by now he was fairly drunk, his watchful nature kept him dimly aware of the time. He’d gotten into a long litany of “remember when’s” with a guy he’d been undercover with years before, and he knew Laura should’ve texted by now. When he looked at his phone, he saw that it had been an hour since she’d left Molly’s.

Damn that kid. She knew how dangerous the guy out there was. He never should have let her walk home alone. He could easily have strong-armed some other uniform to go with her. At the very least, she should have had the sense to remember to call him. These selfish, stupid, horny kids they were graduating from the Academy now! They didn’t care about anything but the glory of a high-profile bust and getting into each other’s pants. They had no idea what it was really like out there. They all had to find out the hard way. Well, he supposed he had been no different, but he was still going to give Parker an ass chewing she wouldn’t forget.

He punched in her cell number. No answer. He called Mouse’s cell. If Mouse didn’t answer, Olinsky would have to stop by Parker’s apartment and make sure she was safe. If he had to do that, he was going to be pissed.

Mouse answered. “Hey, Detective Olinsky, what’s up?”

“Is your girlfriend home yet?”

“No, and if she doesn’t get here soon, I’m gonna be – Huh.”

“What?” Olinsky grunted.

“I just looked at the clock. I’ve been cooking and I didn’t realize how long it’s been since she called. She should’ve been here a while ago.” 

Suddenly, Olinsky was stone sober. “Yeah. Listen, I’m gonna just take a few of the guys and walk her path. When I find her, you’re gonna hear me light her up from where you are.”

“She’s not walking by herself, is she?”

“Yeah. She was supposed to text me when she got home.”

Olinsky held his cell out from his ear as Mouse let loose a shouted curse. 

“Stay put. I’ll find her and bring her home.”

*******

By the time Olinsky, Voight, and Dawson had walked to Parker’s apartment and checked in with Mouse, they were all alarmed. Voight called the rest of the team at Molly’s and told them to put down their drinks and start toward Parker’s, beating the bushes and checking everywhere on the way. He would be moving in the opposite direction, doing the same thing.

It was Atwater who found Laura’s purse, tossed under a parked car. Everything, including cash and her cell phone, was still in it. Something very bad had happened to her. They hoped it wasn’t as bad as what they were all thinking, but not saying.

*********

Laura dug the elbow of her left arm in the dirt, pulling herself a few inches forward with it while pushing with her right leg. She hurt everywhere, but her dislocated right shoulder seemed to be the worst. She could do nothing but drag her useless right arm behind her across the dirt floor of whatever this place was. Some kind of cellar or underground storage room or something. She hadn’t seen it from the outside, because she had been all but unconscious as the killer carried her over his shoulder from the sidewalk where he’d attacked her. She’d regained a foggy consciousness when he’d dumped her on the floor, not even bothering to bend over, so that she fell the full distance from his shoulder. 

She wasn’t going to think about the rest. All she focused on was getting out. The killer was behind her, also on the floor. He wouldn’t be stopping her. She wasn’t going to think about that, either.

It was so far to the stairs, though. Her broken left leg was no use, and her broken fingers meant her left hand was useless, too. All she could do was pull herself along with her left elbow. But it was so slow, and it hurt so much to move, and she had so far to go… She laid her head down on the cool dirt for a moment. No good. Something broken inside hurt whether she was moving or not, and her shoulder was killing her in any position. 

She lifted her elbow and dug in again. That fucker was not going to win. She was not going to let him kill her. He was the only one who was dying tonight. 

“I will not die here,” she grunted through what was left of her teeth. Her jaw wasn’t moving right, either. “I will not die here…” 

She elbowed another few inches, her head collapsing to the dirt once again from pain and exhaustion. She began to cry again. 

“I’m sorry, Mouse… I’m so sorry… I tried to get there… I’m so sorry…” Blood, saliva, and tears mixed with the dirt as she wept.

She allowed herself only a few minutes to rest and vent her misery before she slowly, painfully raised her head again. It was getting hard to see as her eyes swelled. She cried out weakly as she lifted up onto her elbow once again, bent her right leg, and pushed herself another few inches toward the stairs. She couldn’t imagine how she was going to get up those. 

Another thing she wasn’t going to think about.

“I will not die here…” she shrieked through broken teeth, sobbing.

******

Otis took Voight’s call to the bar phone. When he let everyone know that Laura was missing and Voight was asking for help to look for her, Molly’s emptied. Every cop, firefighter, paramedic, doctor, and nurse in the place joined the search. 

Her purse had been found three blocks away. Worse, several teeth and a lot of blood had been found on the sidewalk nearby. They could only assume they were hers. The CPD knew this killer murdered the women close to where he attacked them, and left the bodies where he killed them. That meant Laura was nearby. But where?

They knocked on every door, went into every building, shined flashlights into every car and under every tree and bush. Aside from her purse and bloody teeth, she had vanished.

Voight was angrier than any of them had ever seen him. What happened to Nadia Decotis had been brutal on the whole squad. He couldn’t endure that again. And this would be worse. He wanted to tear every building down brick by brick until they found her. He thought every moment about what was happening to her, and relentless questioning and searching were the only outlets he had for the overwhelming rage he felt.

He pulled on a metal door on the side of an apartment building. It was locked, so he moved on. But something made him turn back around. He realized he’d been assuming that if a door was locked to him, it was locked to the killer, as well. What if that wasn’t right? What if the killer had a key to one of the blind, locked doors they’d bypassed? He got on his radio and instructed everyone to rouse whoever they had to, to look behind every door in every building along the path between Molly’s and Laura’s apartment. It would take forever, and he knew some people were likely to object to allowing them to search locked areas. Voight knew he needed a search warrant, but he wasn’t in any mood to wait for one, or to take no for an answer.

*****

It had now been four hours since Laura had disappeared. With a roiling, sickening pain in his gut, Halstead called Mouse again. 

“Did you find her?” Mouse’s distraught voice answered.

“Not yet. I’m just checking in with you.”

“If she’d called or come home, I’d have called you,” Mouse snapped.

“All right, buddy. I know. How you holding up?”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Right. Listen, we’re going to find her. And she’s going to be OK. You just stay there and wait for good news. All right? Can you do that?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m OK. I’m holding it together. But it’s killing me sitting on my ass in here.”

********

Laura lay at the base of the stairs. Her right eye had swollen shut, and she could barely see her right hand through the slit left open in her left. It hurt to try to focus her eyes. Her head was pounding and she could hear a shrieking in her ears that she knew wasn’t coming from outside. She’d thought she was past fear, but there was something very wrong with her head and she knew from the dizziness and fuzziness of her thoughts how serious it probably was. But she was having trouble looking away from her right hand, covered in a layer of blood and dirt. She’d done… something with that hand. She couldn’t remember what, but it was bad. Very, very bad. The interesting angle of her middle finger told her it was probably broken, but it hurt so much she thought it more likely it was dislocated. That seemed an odd thought to have, but she just couldn’t focus her mind. 

She finally turned her head and tried very hard to see the top of the stairs. She’d made it that far. Now she needed to find a way to haul her broken body up. Just one stair. That was all she’d worry about for now. She placed her left elbow on the first stair, and braced her right foot. She tried to take a deep breath in preparation, but it hurt so much she cried out. Anyway, for some time, she hadn’t been able to breathe right, and it was getting worse. With a colossal effort, she bore down and tried to raise herself one stair. She fell back, exhausted. She was simply too spent and too weak to lift herself up.

Her head sunk to the stair. She wailed to herself, giving in to total defeat and despair. She thought about her parents. They were going to be so very disappointed in her for being so unforgivably cocky that it got her killed. She hoped they’d clean her up before her parents had to identify her body. 

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” Her wails were shaky and insubstantial. She didn’t have the strength to cry.

At that moment, through the fog of confusion that was beginning to be too thick to penetrate, her thoughts focused on Mouse. Mouse who had been through hell and was just coming out the other side. Mouse, with his beautiful eyes and the adorable way he sometimes talked out of the side of his mouth. What would happen to him if she died here, bloody and broken, because she was too fucking stupid to let someone walk her home? No. That was unacceptable. She was not going to be the one to destroy all that Mouse had rebuilt. 

She glanced in the direction of the killer. “Fuck you! I’m stupid, but you’re fucking dead!” She screamed feebly through a wet, bloody sob. “I will not die here! You can’t make me die!” 

She lifted her head, put her elbow on the step, and pushed with every remaining ounce of strength she had, howling with effort. She found her left flank was now balanced precariously on the step. With that, a small burst of hope fueled a new dig with her elbow and foot, to put her close enough to the bottom stair to try to reach the second with her elbow. She made the mistake of looking up. There were ten stairs. She saw a brief swirl of sparkling stars and passed out. 

******

Mouse couldn’t take one more second in the apartment, useless and crazed with fear. He’d been trapped there for six hours now, sick with terror and fury. He’d paced until Otis had finally lost his patience and yelled at him to stop. That had precipitated a brief shouting match that, although it relieved a miniscule fraction of the tension, accomplished nothing. 

Finally, Mouse grabbed his jacket. He didn’t answer when Otis called after him, just took the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him, slammed open the door at the bottom, and ran out into the night in search of Voight. He was going to help in the search, with Voight’s blessing or without it.

*****

When she regained consciousness – what passed for consciousness in her current state – Laura had only one thought. The stairs. Must get up the stairs. Ignoring the raging torment that seemed to inhabit every cell of her body, she planted her elbow and foot and yelled as loud as she could as she pushed her torso up to the edge of the second stair. 

“I -will -not -die -here,” she slowly grunted, as she shoved herself further on to the second stair. She had to rest, gasping for breath through her aching, constricted chest.

Five minutes later, she again moved her elbow to the stair above her and, with tremendous effort, pulled and pushed herself until her chest was halfway between the second and third stair. It was agony resting her weight on her chest against the edge of the hard wooden stair, but worse was the pain in her left leg. She could rest her weight on her hip, but she could see her broken thigh bone bulging out the blood-stained leg of her jeans and had to try to twist to avoid it coming in contact with anything. In a crabbed, twisted position, she used the pain to spur her to push on to the fourth stair. 

At that point, her right foot touched the dirt below the first stair, and she discovered that she could pull with her elbow and push with her foot more easily on the stairs than she’d been able to on the floor. She dragged her useless right arm and left leg up the next few stairs, shrieking with each attempt to raise herself another step. She was halfway there. 

She tried to rest. She couldn’t let her left thigh touch the stairs, and her chest and abdomen were killing her with her weight on them. The only good news was that her right arm was beginning to go numb. In the back of her mind, she had a niggling sense that that was not a good thing, but she couldn’t follow the thought. All she knew was that she had to get up the stairs or she would die. She couldn’t remember why, but she knew it was true. If she could just get up the stairs to the door, the pain would stop. She really wanted that. She was so terribly tired, and hated all this pain so much. Climb the stairs. Just get to the top. That was all she had to do.

She lifted her elbow once again, no longer able to see through the swelling around her eyes. Blindly, painfully, excruciatingly slowly, she pulled herself up another three stairs over the next hour. She had passed out twice, although she wasn’t aware of it. She wasn’t aware of anything. All she knew was pain and a desperate need to get to the top of the stairs.

********

Al Olinsky was appalled that he had let Laura walk home alone. He would never forgive himself for that, even if they found her safe and well. If they didn’t, he didn’t know what could keep him from going off the deep end. 

He threw the building super to the ground at the foot of the rusty steel door that had, at one time, been painted orange. The guy had made the mistake of taking just a little too long to pick up his keys and run to open all the doors in his building. This was the last.

Trembling and mewling with fear of this obviously unhinged cop, he fumbled the key into the lock and turned it. Al shoved him roughly aside, knocking him to the ground once again, and tore the door open, shining his flashlight into the darkness. The storage room held lawn equipment, bulk cleaning supplies, and other maintenance items. No Parker. Al swore viciously. 

*******

The door felt cool on the back of Laura’s left hand. She pushed at it, but it didn’t move. She wheezed out a groan of frustrated anger with the remaining breath she could move through her tight chest. A knob. A push bar. The door had something she had to deal with to make it open. But she was so tired. She hurt so much. And it was so hard to breathe. She wouldn’t be able to do it much longer. Maybe this was good enough. Maybe she could just put her cheek against the nice, cool metal of the door. 

She tried to move forward enough to touch the door with her cheek. But there wasn’t any way to rest on the stairs. Everything was broken. Everything hurt. She really had to get the door open. It would be cool outside, and she could maybe breathe easier. Beyond rational thought, with the singular instinct to open the damn door she’d been trying so hard for so long to reach, Laura pushed up with her elbow and leaned against the door with her cheek. Even that hurt. Was her face broken, too? Could faces break? She didn’t care. Air was just on the other side of the doorway, and she needed air so bad. Why couldn’t she breathe? 

With a superhuman struggle, Laura planted her right foot on the highest stair she could reach, and began to push herself up the door, sliding her cheek against it. Her left leg screamed as its weight began to hang, and even her numb right arm came to enough life to ache. But she still pushed. She had to get air. She had to. And, there was something… she wasn’t supposed to die here. Something about somebody who pissed her off, and she had to get out to… do something. It was important not to die here, for some reason. 

At last, she was crouching, leaning with all her weight against the door. She fumbled out with her left arm, trying to find… something. She screamed as her broken fingers came into contact with a hard metal object sticking out from the door. She slapped at it, mumbling curse words because she couldn’t take in enough breath to shout them. She moved her arm, sliding her cheek just a bit more up the door. She lifted her arm as far as she could and let it fall down onto the handle, which depressed under the weight of her arm. 

The door opened, and she fell forward, halfway in and halfway out. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

********* 

It was Stella Kidd who found her. As Stella came around the corner of a building half a block from where Laura’s purse had been found, urging a large, sleepy woman in a bathrobe and slippers to hurry up with the keys, she saw light spilling from a door she knew hadn’t been open when she’d checked it before. A body lay halfway through the doorway, propping the door open. She had her cell phone out before she reached the body, but for a few seconds, she could only stare in horror. Finally, she tore her eyes from Laura’s limp, bloody form and pushed the button to call Voight.


	12. Don't Call Me A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mouse has to deal with his girlfriend's horrific injuries and the memories of his own past. Ethan Choi asks Will Halstead to put aside his own hostility to help OC Laura Parker.

The paramedics and firefighters were taking forever to even figure out how to get Parker out of the position she’d fallen in, and into a position where they could work on her. Voight was out of his mind. He couldn’t stand the sight of her lying there, bloody and broken, and worse than that was the fact that no one was doing a damn thing. He raged and threatened, got into people’s faces, and generally made a horrific situation worse. Finally, Chief Boden had to back Voight away from the scene and keep him there until, at last, Parker could be moved. Brett and Dawson assessed her injuries as well as they could before determining the least dangerous option for getting Laura onto a gurney so they could get her to Med. The last thing they wanted was to make her injuries worse. Three firefighters followed precisely dictated instructions to slowly and meticulously support her limbs as they turned her. It was excruciating to see that, although she was unconscious, she still grimaced and cried out as she was moved. 

Even then, the crime scene unit would not let anyone down the stairs until the smears and drops of blood on every step had been fully photographed. Just from the look of the stairs, Voight and Olinsky knew it was going to be bad. When they were finally allowed to descend, the CSU tech at the bottom of the steps muttered, “Hope you got a strong stomach.” 

The scene was appalling. The room appeared to be a mostly-disused basement or storage room, with cinder block walls and a dirt floor. It also appeared to be an abbatoir. All four walls had spatters and smears of what was obviously blood on them, some with drips leading down to stains in the dirt. There were pieces of torn cloth on the floor, some of which also showed bloodstains. A crooked stack of pallets teetered against one wall, broken in places. The blood smears and the angle at which they leaned made it clear that a bleeding body had been thrown against them with some force, more than once. The floor was covered with footprints, skid and drag marks, and large indentations in the dirt that looked like a body had fallen hard, or been thrown there. Several boxes which appeared to have once been stacked were scattered across the floor, many crushed and smeared with blood.

And there was a body. A man, clothes torn and covered with blood, lay on his back on the dirt floor. His cause of death wasn’t immediately apparent, although his throat appeared to be particularly bloody.

Taken together, the grisly scene told a tale of a desperate fight to the death which had gone on for quite some time. The man had been the loser. Voight went to him and bent down, looking at the dead man’s neck. There were deep, bloody gashes in his throat, and bruising that looked… wrong. The gashes – four on the left and one on the right – had to have been made by fingernails dug with ferocious tenacity into his flesh. His throat looked somehow stretched out, disfigured in a way Voight couldn’t make sense of. The guy’s eyes were open, staring. Voight saw, when he shined his flashlight into them, that they had the telltale pinpoint spots of bleeding that happened with a strangling. What the hell had Parker had to do?

Halstead came down the stairs and stopped, mouth agape. “Fuck me,” he gasped.

“Yeah. I don’t even want to think about what happened down here. They got Parker in the ambo yet?” Voight’s gravelly voice was grave.

“Not yet. She’s got a collapsed lung, chest filled with blood. They have to put a chest tube in. Sarge, it’s rough. They don’t know if she’s gonna make it.”

It was all Voight could do not to kick the corpse. As he was spitting a string of expletives, they heard a commotion outside with raised voices and clear sounds of a scuffle.

“Go,” Voight said, pointing Halstead to the stairs.

He took the stairs two at a time, reaching the door just as Mouse broke free from the firefighters restraining him. He ran straight into Jay, who wrestled him to the ground.

“Stop! Just stop!”

“Screw you, Jay, I need to see what he did to her!”

“Greg, you don’t wanna go down there,” Halstead said, struggling to keep Mouse from breaking his hold on him. 

“Get off me!”

“Mouse, no. Trust me, man, you do not want that room in your head. You don’t.”

“What the hell happened? How did she –“

“Greg, listen to me. I need you to listen to me right now. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, yeah. Let me up, man.”

“Not before you swear to me – swear to me – that you will take care of Laura right now. Let us deal with this. Because that is what you need to do right now. That’s what she needs. OK?”

“Yeah, OK. I got it.”

“Swear to me.”

“Yeah. I swear.”

“OK, man. Go take care of your girl.”

*****

The waiting room at Chicago Med’s ER was far too small for the number of first responders in it. It was definitely too small for Mouse. He was losing his mind not being able to do anything, pacing and pulling his hands through his hair, bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinding his teeth. It was painful to watch him try to sit, only to jump up almost immediately, unable to stay still. The waiting lasted forever. In fact, it was well into the afternoon before Ethan Choi came out from the treatment area to the waiting room.

When he did, almost the entire room rose and tried to crowd around him. Halstead pushed past the other first responders to Ethan, making a path for Mouse.

Dr. Choi knew Halstead and Mouse fairly well, and he knew families of trauma patients. Mouse looked like he was going to be as much of a challenge as the patient herself, with all of her horrific injuries. 

“How is she? Can I see her?” Mouse was wild-eyed, agitated. 

“One thing at a time. Let’s start with the good news. Right now, she’s stable. She has a number of injuries I’m worried about, ones that can cause her serious problems if they go south. But if they don’t, if this is as bad as it gets, she should survive.”

“That’s too many fucking ‘ifs’, brother.”

“I know, Mouse, believe me, I know. But that’s where we are.”

“And that’s the good news?” Mouse was fairly shrieking.

“One more piece of good news. She wasn’t raped.” 

The room gave a collective sigh of relief. 

“But I’m afraid that’s it for good news. As you know, she has multiple, serious injuries. She has a lot of fractures. I could list them for you, but I warn you, it’s a long list. We treated the ones we can, but the skull and rib fractures have to heal on their own. We were able to reduce the dislocated shoulder; that’ll heal. We’ve just got her in a sling to keep her comfortable. She has some bleeding into her brain, which we’re watching very closely. If it gets worse, we may need to operate. Same for her internal injuries. She’s bleeding internally which, again, if it gets worse could mean surgery. The hemothorax is stable with the chest tube; her lung’s reinflated and she’s breathing easy, O2 sats look good. There’s not much we can do about her teeth right now, but we wouldn’t be able to anyway, because her jaw’s broken in two places. We’ve had to wire it.”

“I want to see her.”

Ethan frowned and pursed his lips. “I know you do. But it might be best to let her rest for now. We’re taking the best care –“

“Choi, if I have to bust in there, then that’s what I’m gonna do. I need to see Laura.”

Everything about Mouse’s demeanor said that he would physically fight his way into Laura’s room if he had to. 

Jay put a hand on Mouse’s shoulder and said, “Ethan, man, you need to let him in. I know she’d want to see him, and you can see he needs to see her. Just… please.”

“All right,” Ethan sighed. He looked hard at Mouse. “But we’re gonna do this my way, you understand? I don’t want to pull rank on you, but I will if I have to. Are we clear?”

“We’re clear. Just let me see her.”

Ethan walked Mouse through the double doors between the waiting room and the treatment area of the ER. They walked a short distance before he pulled Mouse out of the middle of the hallway to stand next to the wall outside one of the treatment rooms.

“Listen, I need to prepare you for what you’re going to see.”

“I saw her at the scene, I know how bad it is.”

“No, Mouse, you don’t. Injuries from a beating get worse before they get better. When she came in last night, her bruises had barely started to show and the swelling wasn’t fully developed. You’re not gonna recognize your girlfriend.”

Mouse blanched and swore under his breath.

“She has splints on both hands; three on the left and one on the right. She has fractures of her left wrist and forearm, so that’s casted, and her left leg is going to be in traction for a while before we can cast it. Her jaw’s wired shut. It’s bad, Mouse. You need to be prepared.”

“If she has to take it, so do I. I won’t lose it, I swear. I just need to be with Laura.” Mouse’s voice broke as he looked desperately at Ethan.

Ethan had been right. Mouse would never have believed that was Laura if he hadn’t seen her at the scene. Her right eye was swollen shut and her left nearly so. Bruises were criss-crossed with cuts on her face and the parts of her he could see between the hospital gown and casts. Worst, her mouth was a swollen, bloody mess, with several of her teeth missing and shiny silver wire just visible between her swollen, split lips.

Mouse tiptoed to the edge of her bed, trying to see anywhere on her body where he could safely touch her. He settled for kneeling next to the bed and putting a hand on her right upper arm, above the sling holding her previously-dislocated shoulder in place.

Unbelievably, she was awake. She peered at him through the slit between the bruised swelling of her left eye. She made a horrible wheezing sound which he could only guess might be crying. 

“Mmmm shrrry… Mmmm shrrry…”

Could it be possible that she was trying to apologize? To him? What the hell for? 

“Hey, hey… I’m right here. It’s gonna be OK. I got you…” Mouse no longer bothered to hold back his tears. He laid his head down on the bed next to her, putting the hand that wasn’t holding her arm softly onto her stomach. Both of them silently cried, unable to communicate, but at least finally able to be together. 

*************

All Laura wanted to do was disappear. She actually wished the swelling wasn’t receding, because it had hidden her eyes from the world. Every second she wasn’t distracted with something happening that required her direct attention, she was back in that bloody cellar, flailing ineffectually at a man determined to kill her while he hit, kicked, and threw her against things at will. The helplessness she’d felt would haunt her for the rest of her life. 

The hellish, unspeakable thing she’d been forced to do to save her own life filled her mind. She could not rid herself of the feeling of that man’s throat in her hand and the ghastly, sickening feeling of something internal tearing as she twisted and pulled for her life. She could hear his choking, gurgling screams. She felt as though her right hand was a hideous, bloody claw, even when she was looking directly at her clean skin and nails with the bright white brace on the middle finger.

The guilt and shame she felt were overwhelming. But the very worst part was that only Mouse would allow her to feel them. Everyone who loved her, everyone who cared about her, including her parents and brothers, told her what a good thing it was that she’d killed the man who attacked her and all those other women. They called her horrible names like ‘brave’ and ‘hero’. They said obscene things like ‘good for you’ and ‘you go, girl’. They had absolutely no idea what they were saying. She tried desperately to correct them, to make them stop, but between their well-meaning cheerfulness and her profoundly frustrating inability to talk, she felt trapped. Again. Still. 

But Mouse understood. He’d shocked everyone, himself most of all, by remaining entirely stable and present despite the similarities between what had happened to him and what had happened to Laura. He was there with her, and for her, every moment, showering her with love and care. He’d actually taken a leave of absence from his job to take care of her. And he could care for her in a way that few others could, because he understood what it was to be forced to kill someone. 

It wasn’t a matter of pride. It wasn’t a good thing. It was a filthy stain that couldn’t be washed clean no matter how honorable or necessary the cause. As a soldier, he’d known that he might be called upon to kill. But he understood that Laura, as a nurse whose entire focus had been to heal people, had never prepared for this. Cops sometimes had to kill, but that was rare and she’d been a cop for such a short time that she’d never seriously had to consider the possibility. He got it. And he would carry her through this if he could. 

The first thing he’d done was simply to stay with her, through the long day and night following her attack. He found ways to touch her without hurting her, soothing her with his presence and closeness as much as her wretched condition would allow. The second had been to get her a computer tablet, with a full keyboard plus a large library of emojis, so that she could communicate. She had done what she could to express her profound gratitude, given the severe limitations on her ability to even hold his hand and the impossibility of making any discernable facial expressions. She wasn’t surprised to see that Mouse, such a good listener and friend, had seen that the ability to communicate was her greatest need at the moment.

Her second greatest need was something Ethan Choi hadn’t anticipated. Almost the first thing she laboriously typed with one finger of her right hand when Mouse gave her the tablet was that she didn’t want the narcotics she was being given to keep her as comfortable as possible. She was terrified of going back to her old self, a slave to addiction wreaking destruction on everything good in her life. She simply would not accept that receiving necessary medication and feeding an addiction were not the same thing. Fiercely stubborn and determined to control something at this moment in her life, Laura had been relentless in refusing narcotics. 

Finally, in desperation, Ethan had done something he seriously questioned, but felt coerced into trying. He asked Will Halstead for help.

“You hate her, she hates you. I get that. I get why. But listen, she is going to die if she tries to do this without pain meds. You know that. She can’t start to heal if she’s using all her energy to fight pain. And nobody can get through to her. Please. I’m down to my last option here.”

Will wasn’t the least bit happy about what he was being asked to do. He understood the problem and he understood that something had to give if she was to survive. But his antipathy for Laura Parker ran so deep he actually had trouble caring whether she lived or died. Still, in the end, he was a doctor. If a patient - even nasty, mouthy, weak Laura Parker – needed help, he had to help. It was that simple.

Unsurprisingly, the first thing she’d typed when he’d entered her room was “GTFO.” 

“Yeah, I’d like to, believe me. But Ethan asked me to come in and talk to you, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

She shook her head vehemently and made a strangled noise that was clearly her shouting at him to leave her room.

“Ok, look. Just let me say what I have to say and I’ll get out. I won’t come in here again, I swear. Just hear me out.”

She looked away from him and blew a snort of air from her nose. 

“You and I are never going to agree about addiction. We both know that. And we’re never going to be friends. But I think we can agree about one thing, and that is that these injuries you have? They hurt like a motherfucker. Right?”

She shrugged, still not looking at him.

“You were a nurse. You know how destructive pain can be. Can we agree on that?”

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t disagree.

“You wanna walk out of here?”

She turned to him, but was unable to move her swollen face to give him the look of disgust she tried to. Instead, she typed a middle finger emoji.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Well, there’s a long road between here and there. Agreed?”

She reluctantly nodded, staring down at her sheets rather than looking at him.

“You want to crawl down that road, or you want to ride? Your call. You refuse medication that you know you need, and you’re choosing to make your recovery twice as hard as it needs to be. And let’s be straight – it’s gonna be a bitch no matter how you slice it.”

Will dropped his voice and squatted down at the side of her bed so that their faces were closer. “So what I’m here to say is, you know how I feel about… the things that happened. But the whole reason I’m the one Ethan sent is because even I am telling you that you should let him give you whatever it takes to control your pain. And if I’m telling you to take narcotics…”

She flicked her eyes up to his and slowly, reluctantly, gave a slight nod. 

“Can I tell Ethan you’ll let him be the doctor?”

She typed another middle finger emoji.

He grinned, the first time he’d grinned at something she’d said in several years. “I’ll take that as another yes.”

He started to get up, but she made a noise that stopped him. When she had his attention, she typed, “Thanks.”

He was surprised. She hadn’t said anything nice to him since – he couldn’t even remember the last time. For just a moment, he was able to see her as a gravely wounded patient who had been a friend at one time. “You take care of yourself, OK?”

She nodded. He lightly touched the splinted fingers of her left hand. In a soft, kind voice, he said, “I was always a better guitar player than you, but I’ll look forward to seeing you playing again. Not hearing you, you know, but…”

She typed another middle finger emoji. He smiled and left the room.


	13. Evolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Daniel Charles helps OC Laura Parker deal with the emotional aftermath of her attack. Mouse helps Laura deal with her night terrors. Mouse and Laura have a big party when she is released from the hospital, and Peter Stone shows up. Mouse and Laura have an intimate, private party when her last cast is finally removed.

There’s a phenomenon in psychiatry called transference. It happens when a patient transfers to their therapist feelings of love and dependence that rightfully belong elsewhere. Laura was familiar with the phenomenon, but she didn’t think transference had anything to do with her love for Dr. Charles. He was, quite simply, her savior, and she loved him for the concrete way he had walked her through a trauma that would otherwise have destroyed her. The way Ethan Choi had healed her body, Daniel Charles was healing her soul, and she loved him for it. She loved him the moment he came into her room the first time and, rather than tell her she was a hero for killing that man, _asked_ her what it meant to her that she had killed him. 

Dr. Charles was a big lummox of a man, rumpled and messy. He could smell bullshit a mile away and gently, kindly called her on it every time she tried to deny feelings she really had, or claim feelings that weren’t properly hers. At the same time, he never once told her not to feel them. Instead, he helped her sort through them and reject them if they weren’t useful. 

Much of that was easier said than done. Her shame and guilt over having exposed herself to such obvious danger were, in some ways, deserved and appropriate. But the penalty for taking a foolish risk was worlds away from what that man had done to her. In the same way, it was appropriate to feel guilty for having killed a man, and to be disgusted by the manner in which she had done it. But, again, that guilt and disgust had to be tempered, all but negated, by the fact that the man had given her no choice. He had made the rule: only one of them was going to get out of that room alive. She had only reacted.

So Dr. Charles had helped her sift through the deformed mess of her shame and guilt to work through what was real and what was not, and then figure out how she was going to carry what was hers through the rest of her life. 

The other thing Dr. Charles did for her was to assure her, as many times as it took, that her intrusive thoughts and night terrors would not always be as pervasive as they were now. Mouse said that his own trauma had been turned into a gift, because she could see that his PTSD was manageable and survivable and know that hers would be, too. Laura couldn’t imagine that, but she trusted both Dr. Charles and Mouse completely, so she allowed herself to hope.

In the meantime, she could not tolerate hearing noises behind her. She could go only a few minutes before the sight of that room, the sound her ribs had made as they cracked under his foot, and the feel of that man’s throat in her fist, overwhelmed her. And the worst part was the screaming, sweaty, uncontrollable terror that woke her every night. She flailed her healing limbs, desperate to escape the sensation of being trapped while something monstrous approached. 

Dr. Charles had taught her to look around her, telling herself as many times as it took what was real and what was nightmare. Some of the things she chanted to herself made him struggle to control a grin. He suggested that she tell herself, “I’m alive. He’s not.” She preferred, “That motherfucker’s taking a dirt nap. I’m still here.” Whatever worked. 

Dr. Charles couldn’t be with her every night, but Mouse could. And he was. Whenever he was jolted from sleep by her screams, he would quietly, calmly turn on every available light and help her remember what to tell herself as she gulped for air and cried uncontrollably. He sat with her for as long as it took to pull herself out of that cellar with the dirt floor and back to reality.

“He’s not here. He can’t be here.” He’d prompt her.

“He’s in hell! I know he’s dead because I killed him. I felt him die. I saw him dead,” she would gasp.

“Look around. He’s not here, is he?”

“He’s not here.”

“And you’re safe. You’re OK.”

“I’m safe. I’m OK. You’re here. You’re Mouse. You’re my friend.” Her sweat-soaked chest would heave as she panted in terror.

“Can he hurt you when I’m here?”

“No. He can’t hurt me. You’re a trained killer and I am your only mission.” OK, maybe teaching her that one had been a little self-indulgent, but it made him smile every time he heard it. 

“Fuckin’ A,” he would reply. 

Mouse started to see the light at the end of the tunnel when, one night, she’d looked right at him – not past or through him as she did when she was struggling to find her way out of that cellar – and asked, “Why do people say that? What does ‘fuckin’ A’ even mean?”

He’d thrown his head back and laughed while shedding relieved tears. Then he’d distracted her by scooting next to her in bed while they Googled the etymology of that expression. 

Ethan Choi objected to the way Mouse continually found his way into Laura’s hospital bed. When it first started a few weeks after her attack, he’d threatened that she’d be crippled for life if her traction was messed up, or suffer some catastrophe if her IV was kinked or disconnected, only to arrive most mornings to find them, limbs and casts tangled up but traction and IVs intact, sleeping peacefully. He’d grumbled about it to Dr. Charles, who made him sit down and review Laura’s chart. The numbers didn’t lie. Since she’d been healed enough for Mouse to crawl in beside her, she’d had a lower blood pressure and needed less pain medication. Although Ethan had scowled and shaken his head, he hadn’t bothered to forbid Mouse and Laura from finding whatever physical closeness she could safely tolerate.

******

The first time Voight and Olinsky had visited her in the hospital had been rough. They’d needed to take her statement about what had happened in that cellar, and all three of them had cried at times as she told them the hellish story. Although the Medical Examiner had explained that she had crushed the killer’s larynx and damaged the internal structures of his throat to the point that he’d drowned in his own blood, her description was even more horrific. He had already beaten holy hell out of her, and she hadn’t been able to do much of anything to defend herself or wound him back. But once he’d broken her leg, she’d been unable to rise from the floor. When he came for her, she knew it was over. He would rape her, then kill her, then rape her dead body, as he’d done to those other women.

The only thing that saved her was that he made a mistake. She was lying against a wall where he’d thrown her, head first and too disoriented and injured to put her hands out to protect herself. He’d stomped her thigh with his full weight, breaking her femur with a sickening crack. Then he’d gotten behind her head to put his hands under her shoulders and drag her into the middle of the floor where he could defile her. He kept telling her all the foul things he was going to do to her in retribution for having fought back so fiercely. And that’s when he had made his mistake. He’d leaned down over her.

She’d screamed defiance as she lifted her arms to grab at him; dislocated shoulder, broken fingers and all. She’d clutched his hair as well as she could with her twisted left hand, and seized his neck with her right. He was huge; her small hand would not go around even half his neck. But she sensed her fingers sliding toward the center, and felt them latch onto the hard mass of his larynx. Pure, adrenaline-fueled survival instinct overtook her. She held on, digging her nails as hard as she could into his flesh, determined to wrap her fingers completely around his larynx and tear it from his throat. She refused to let go. He dislocated her finger trying to pull her hand away, and pounded on her arm trying to get her off of him. But that pounding only helped her pull harder at his neck. She had a literal death grip on his throat. She squeezed, pulled, and screamed until he’d fallen over onto her. Still she hadn’t let go. She’d clutched at his throat until he began to retch and gasp wetly, then whimper. He went quiet and still she squeezed with all her strength. Only when she realized that her strength was gone and she was no longer really squeezing, yet he wasn’t moving or breathing, did she let go and shove him heavily off of her.

Voight asked her to email him the typed responses she’d been making on her tablet to tell this story, which she did. She then quietly made a personal ceremony of deleting them.

Olinsky had stayed after Voight left, awkwardly and haltingly trying to apologize to her. She would have none of it. In the end, they made each other agree that all blame, the only blame, lay with the inhuman killer who was now in a drawer at the morgue. 

*********

When Laura was discharged from the hospital, a train of Intelligence detectives had carried the mobility equipment, flowers, and other paraphernalia she’d accumulated to her apartment. Mouse had worked with the physical and occupational therapists to prepare everything for her homecoming and had moved in temporarily. She had long since ceased to need the sling on her right shoulder and her dislocated finger was no longer splinted, so he had full use of her right arm and hand. At long last, her left leg had been released from traction and encased in a huge, cumbersome cast. Although her jaw was no longer wired shut, she had only a temporary flipper where her missing teeth had been. She hated it and covered her mouth when she smiled, but it beat the hell out of the raw, gaping hole it covered. She looked forward to getting permanent teeth back. The bruises and cuts had healed, along with the wound where her chest tube had been. Ethan assured her that her internal injuries, including the skull and rib fractures, were healing, too. She had a long course of physical therapy and rehabilitation before her, but she was home.

Laura’s brothers had gone home to Bloomington as soon as it had become clear that she would survive. Her parents had stayed long enough to participate in the happy parade from the hospital to her apartment and see her settled, but now headed home themselves.

She and Mouse had a hell of a party that night; the apartment crammed with cops, firefighters, medical personnel, and assorted other friends until well after the sun had begun to rise the next morning. When one of her neighbors had called the police about the noise, the responding officers hadn’t tried to quiet the party. They had gone instead to the neighbors’ apartment, explained the situation, and told the neighbors that they were invited. The neighbors initially declined, but it turned out that they were friends of the Dawson family, so Gabby and Antonio had drunkenly dragged them upstairs to meet Laura and Mouse and have a drink. 

Peter Stone had shown up for a while, bringing a court reporter he’d been seeing. At first, he’d been afraid to hug Laura as tightly as he wanted to as she sat in her wheelchair, surrounded by drunken friends. She still seemed very fragile to him. Somehow, in the middle of that loud, festive, alcohol-fueled party, Peter and Laura had managed to have a quiet, tearful conversation in which he told her how afraid he’d been for her, and how viscerally angry he’d been at what she’d been through. He’d visited her plenty of times in the hospital, but this was the first time he allowed himself to share the depth of his feelings, now that she was safely on her way to healing. By the time they were finished talking, he hugged her back as fiercely as she hugged him.

It was that night, seeing Laura talking and laughing, and especially seeing her with Peter, that a thought began to form in the back of Mouse’s mind. He wasn’t even aware of it.

********

As the months passed, Laura’s life slowly began to resume its shape. Mouse had returned to work as soon as she could care for herself at home and, when she was ready, she returned to work as Sergeant Voight’s assistant. 

Since there was no elevator in the building, Kevin Atwater insisted on being the one who got to carry her up and down the stairs. For some reason, he had demanded to be the first to carry her up on the day she returned, and it became his job. Only when he wasn’t there did Mouse or one of the male detectives do it. Laura had never felt so loved and supported, and did everything she could to return that love by making their jobs easier. She decried the sorry state into which the unit had fallen since she’d been gone, but no new assistant had been able to work with Voight. He quickly either fired them or they quit. Either way, he was happier than he’d been in quite a while to have Parker back.

*****

The day her leg cast was removed was a landmark for Laura. She couldn’t wait to take a shower without having to wrap anything in plastic, or a bath without having to let her leg hang out of the tub. 

Ethan told her that, now that her cast was off, she was cleared to have sex again if she wanted to. 

“Oh… um… were we supposed to wait?” She’d asked. 

The surprised look on his face was so funny she couldn’t help laughing out loud. 

“Well, I guess no harm, no foul,” he responded. “Let me rephrase. You’re cleared to do anything that doesn’t hurt. How’s that?”

“Works for me.” 

She and Mouse enjoyed a laugh about that as they relaxed in the huge bathtub in the hotel room they’d splurged on to celebrate her freedom from the last of her casts. They had candles, sparkling cider, and so many bubbles they were overflowing onto the floor. Mouse spent a very long time massaging, soaping, and shaving her newly-liberated leg, something she’d been dying to do for months. Not surprisingly, pretty soon his hands were roving. He loved the feel of having all of her skin to touch again, without anything getting in the way of his caresses. 

In the soft candlelight, with no casts, braces, or bandages, and her healing scars invisible, Laura felt normal and attractive for the first time since the attack. She eagerly returned Mouse’s kisses, moving to give him access to her body and letting her own hands explore his arms, torso, and finally his more intimate parts. 

They had to laughingly figure out how to adjust their positions so that he was laying stretched out in the tub with her on top of him, which spilled more bubbles and not a small amount of water onto the floor. Eventually, though, they got there. Laura’s left leg was still too stiff to bend and her left wrist still too weak to support her full weight, but in this position, supported somewhat by the water, she could maneuver just fine.

She kissed him deeply as he caressed her breasts, teasing her nipples and rubbing his hardening cock against her. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, a moan escaping at the end as he did something particularly wonderful with his hands. 

He chuckled. “I haven’t done anything yet.” 

She pulled up a bit so that she could look in his eyes, which looked purple in the candlelight. “Oh, yes, you have. You’ve done everything. You saved me, Mouse. I mean it, thank you.” 

“You saved me a little bit, too,” he said sincerely. He then pulled her back to him and resumed moving against her. Apparently that was all the serious conversation he was in the mood for. “And I got a great idea how we can show our appreciation.”

She sank herself down on him, both of them groaning with pleasure as he was able to bury his full length in her at long last. “Horndog,” she whispered.

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

Their rhythmic movements began to slosh water and bubbles out of the tub, and actually put out a couple of the candles, but neither noticed. 

Later, in the huge, fluffy bed, Laura had to talk Mouse into getting on top to make love to her the second time. For months, they’d had to use their hands and mouths to pleasure one another, which they’d made into kind of a fun game, but they were thrilled when they could finally manage to actually fuck again. Even then, she’d had to be on top because of her cast. Which was exactly why she insisted that she wanted to feel his weight on her again now that she could. 

“Ethan said I can fuck however I want to,” she urged. “I’m tired of being careful.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Don’t ‘yeah but’ me, Soldier. I’ve fucked you enough. I want you to fuck me.”

Mouse was a sucker for dirty talk, which Laura felt silly doing most of the time. So hearing her growl that order, he didn’t hesitate to obey. He was overjoyed to finally be the one setting the rhythm and free to control how deeply he penetrated her. He hadn’t known how much he missed it until he felt how blissfully good it was again. Happy to be making progress with her recovery, and delighted to feel Mouse’s weight and the sensation of him plunging into her again, Laura very quickly lost herself in the second of many orgasms he gave her that night, with him following closely after her.

*******

The following morning, as they were lying sprawled across the bed with the room service breakfast dishes scattered around them, Mouse was abruptly distracted from his lazy tonguing of her nipple by her completely random question.

“Do you know krav maga?”

He looked up at her, eyes wide and mouth in the ridiculously sexy crooked smile he sometimes used. “_What?_”

“I want to learn krav maga. You know, the self-defense techniques the Israeli Defense Forces use? I thought if you knew it, you could teach me.”

“Well, I’m kinda busy right this minute.” She could tell Mouse was a little offended.

She laughed apologetically. “I… Right, sorry… and I was paying attention, I promise. It just popped into my mind.”

She was entirely taken off-guard to find herself suddenly and completely in a different position, with him directly over her, her arms above her head and both wrists held in one of his hands. The other was softly but unmistakably around her neck. He let her notice that, then moved it up to hold his thumb under her chin while his hand splayed across her cheek in a soft caress that allowed him to turn her face to his. He gave her an expert, demanding kiss.

“Yes. I know some krav maga,” he said. She gasped, feeling her body instantly respond. 

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

For the next hour, he took absolute control of her willing, electrified body with a profound mastery that was so intense it came just short of scaring her. She was pretty sure krav maga didn’t actually include a series of mind-blowing sexual techniques, but apparently, she’d asked the right question of the right man.


	14. Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OC Laura Parker gets serious about rehabbing from her injuries. She tells Mouse that she refuses to be defenseless again, and asks him to help her learn krav maga, a self-defense martial art used by the Israeli Defense Forces. They find a krav maga instructor who will also help Laura work on her Spanish. Mouse and Laura learn that training together can be foreplay. Mouse begins to rediscover his sense of himself as a soldier and becomes distant.

Laura worked harder at rehabilitation than she had ever worked at anything in her life, including sobriety. She would not even consider a future that didn’t involve a return to the CPD. So she relentlessly followed the regimen of exercises and stretches prescribed for her by her physical and occupational therapists. She drove them crazy, pushing too hard and needing to be restrained so that she didn’t overdo things and set her recovery back. Her rehabilitation was long and excruciatingly painful at times. She got frustrated, she cried, she raged, and she gratefully celebrated every regained ability. The first time she was able to walk a mile, she’d sat down on the sidewalk and sobbed with joy.

These days, she was up to jogging, although Dr. Choi cautioned her to be careful about trying to push things too far, too fast. Impatient and demanding, Laura wasn’t much of a candidate for judicious, step-by-reasonable-step, progress. She wanted to be back to herself, and she wanted it now. She turned everything into therapy. Playing her guitar was therapy for her injured wrist and fingers. Sex was therapy for her stiff leg. 

And krav maga was therapy for her spirit. Laura pumped Mouse to teach her what he knew, even as he tried to get her to wait until she was more completely healed. They’d actually argued about it. She’d threatened to go to a gym and take classes if he wouldn’t teach her. He had been happy to teach her basic principles as a classroom exercise, sitting comfortably on her couch, but she quickly became impatient with learning things she already knew from the extensive research she’d done.

She devoured whatever new information he provided, which included the idea that practically anything can be used as a weapon. She’d gone around the living room, making him think of ways to use objects she pointed out. She didn’t think like he did – she hadn’t been trained to – and it fascinated her. In fact, the next time she’d had a nightmare, one of the things she began telling herself was that weapons to defend herself were everywhere because everything was a weapon.

But information wasn’t enough. At Laura’s insistence, Mouse had taught her stances, palm strikes, and instep kicks, but only as non-contact movements, like tai chi. She wanted lessons every day, and every day tried to push him further than he was willing to go until she was back to normal. 

“Look, I get it, you want to be back to 100%. But you can’t be stupid about it. You’re gonna-“

“No, Mouse,” Laura had answered, slowly and ferociously. “You do not get it. You weren’t there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re a man. You’re inherently bigger and stronger than I am. If it’d been you, you could have gotten away. You could’ve defended yourself. I couldn’t.”

“Laura, you survived.”

The anger on her face was primal. He finally began to understand. 

“I’m not going back in that room,” she hissed. “I’m too fucking small, and there’s nothing I can do about that. But I can learn to fight, and that’s what I’m gonna do. I refuse to be defenseless. I want to be dangerous. Not prepared. Not able to defend myself. Dangerous. I need to know that the next motherfucker who messes with me is gonna get hurt. Do you understand?”

She could tell from his face that he did. 

“You’re a Ranger. You’re dangerous. Help me.”

So he did. Mouse decided that they needed to join a gym together so that an expert instructor could oversee her training. He wasn’t an instructor and he wasn’t comfortable with any level of violence against her, sparring or not. 

The first few gyms they tried were poor fits. At the first one, it became quickly obvious that what the instructor called krav maga was basic YWCA self defense. Laura already knew a man’s groin was a tender spot. She wanted to learn how to hurt a man anywhere she chose. The second gym was worse. The instructor there immediately ignored Laura and tried to goad Mouse into a pissing contest, recognizing Mouse for the warrior he was, and trying to establish his own status as big man in his gym. Mouse had actually laughed. Then he’d taken the guy’s challenge and pinned him to the floor in a very undignified position so fast Laura hadn’t been able to follow how Mouse had done it.

There had been a fourth gym, and a fifth. Laura learned some additional basics like side clinches and how to escape holds, but they hadn’t yet found a place with the magical combination of acceptable facilities, the appropriate attitude, and the right instructor. Mouse noted that they were lucky to be living in Chicago, where there were so many options.

The sixth gym seemed like it might be another fail. The facility itself was unimpressive, a storefront with faded lettering on the blacked-out windows and areas inside where the paint was beginning to peel. The instructor, who had a very impressive physique that gave evidence to his constant training, was so gruff as to be almost rude. Sick of wasting time with gyms that weren’t what they needed, Mouse and Laura had asked to watch a class and then a private lesson before having a sit-down interview with the instructor. The first good sign was that the instructor had readily agreed to their request.

The second good sign was the way the instructor engaged with his students. He corrected them constantly. He was never satisfied. He pushed them hard. But he never uttered a condescending or derogatory word. And, Laura noticed, when he gave a compliment, which obviously happened rarely, it was clear that his students respected him enough to live for his praise. 

The clincher was that the instructor, whose name was Eric Hernandez, understood instantly Laura’s need to learn more than basic self-defense. When she gave him the outline of her story, he had spat a Spanish expletive and said, simply, “I can’t guarantee you’ll never get hurt again. But I will teach you ways to hurt back and get out of there.”

That was what Laura wanted to hear.

Eric wasn’t threatened in the least by Mouse. In fact, as soon as he had thanked Mouse for his service, he said that he was impressed and envious of Mouse’s status as an ex-Ranger. And because he recognized in Laura a fierce drive to learn, he was fully in favor of Mouse practicing and sparring with her so long as Mouse thoroughly understood the absolute need for safety at all times. Eric knew who he was. He felt no need to compare dicks with Mouse.

Eric was Puerto Rican and peppered his conversation with Spanish, which was a bonus. Laura didn’t have enough people in her life with whom she could speak Spanish, and she knew she needed constant practice if she was ever going to reach her goal of being fluent. She was well aware that she had a thick American accent and frequently used the wrong verb tenses, and that her syntax was sometimes so wrong as to be actually funny. The way to improve her accent and learn to string words together correctly was to spend a lot of time speaking Spanish with someone like Eric, who was truly bilingual.

“_Si tomo clases particulares, ¿las harás en Español?_”[1] She asked.

“_Supongo que sí, pero si voy a enseñarte Español y krav maga, te cobro el doble_”.[2]

“_Entonces esperaré que corrijas mis errores de idioma y mis errores de combate._”[3] She raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“_Puedo hacer eso,_”[4] he shrugged, grinning back. 

“This is the place,” Laura told Mouse.

Mouse nodded.

And so it began. As Mouse had expected, Laura was relentless about training and practicing everything Eric taught her. The more she learned, the more determined she became. What Mouse hadn’t expected is that sparring almost immediately became foreplay for them. Being Laura, she had difficulty keeping to slowed-down, safe exercises that practiced moves without making actual contact. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, just to learn and then get better and faster. But Mouse was competitive, and although they pulled strikes and kicks before they hurt each other, both began to routinely sport bruises. Neither cared.

Laura had no further need for physical therapy, because she was now able to do everything she had been able to do before the attack. She had frequent stiffness and slightly decreased range of motion in her right shoulder and left wrist, but Eric was all about warming up before lessons, which meant she worked through stiffness. He also required them to do calisthenics and cardio, so she began to develop strength and stamina she hadn’t had before. 

The stronger and faster she got, the more fun she and Mouse had sparring. Often, one of them would get the other in a hold and try to kiss or fondle the other before they could break free. They wished they had a private gym where they could follow through on some of their more aggressive sparring, especially when Eric began teaching Laura how to get out of takedowns, which meant Mouse got to put her into those takedowns to begin with. When they reached her apartment after a sparring session, more often than not they didn’t make it to the bedroom before they were locked together in sweaty, aggressive sex.

Which did not make the project less serious for either of them. Laura, of course, was just learning, and fighting to take back a sense of safety and control she’d lost. Mouse, however, found himself sparring seriously with Eric and some of his most advanced students every chance he got, because he was rediscovering his sense of himself as a soldier. He realized he had fallen pretty far out of the condition he’d been in when he’d been active military, and that upset him. He became determined to get back to his peak. 

His mind, and his heart, began slowly to shift from where he’d been when he had started martial arts training simply to support his girlfriend. 

*******

The first time Mouse went out of town to visit Ranger friends, he came back moody and distant. So Laura hadn’t really been looking forward to what he’d be like when he returned from this trip. This time, however, was very different. He was upbeat. Excited. Based on the fact that he and his buddies had done basically the same things in Boston that they’d done in Albuquerque – namely drink, tell stories, and try to out-vulgar one another – she didn’t understand the difference in his mood. She just enjoyed it.

She was happy, anyway, because the day had finally come. She had been cleared to return to active patrol, passed the CPD physical, and gone back on the street with a new training partner. This one was nearing retirement and let her do all the physical stuff simply because he was over it (and probably unable to, anyway), but that was exactly the way Laura wanted it. Being a rookie in uniform was filled with mundane, boring, sometimes embarrassingly stupid tasks like responding to noise complaints and issuing traffic tickets. But the first time she’d gotten to chase and then tackle a petty thief, she had to work not to smile as she cuffed him and escorted him back to the squad car. She didn’t even care that she’d torn the hell out of her uniform pants.

Mouse’s reaction to the story was disappointing. She was perplexed to see him actually frown a bit as she told him. She tried to shrug it off, but it actually hurt her feelings a little. She told herself that she was just spoiled by having a boyfriend who was normally so involved and supportive, and that he was certainly entitled to an off day. As soon as she could, Laura called Maggie, who was as excited for her as she had hoped Mouse would be. 

*******

Mouse had never really moved back into his own apartment when Laura became self-sufficient again. Every once in a while, he’d go there to get something, or he’d sleep there because he was sick or having a rough time with memories and needed to be alone. But he started to spend more time there without Laura, giving reasons that seemed a bit flimsy and off. She briefly wondered whether he was tired of her or their relationship, or whether he had met someone else, but aside from wanting to stay in his own apartment sometimes, he didn’t give her any indication of that. 

Since they’d been together, Mouse had accompanied Laura once or twice on a run. However, their styles and speed/distance preferences really didn’t match, so they’d never developed a habit of running together. Now, Laura had resumed running at Eric’s suggestion. One particularly ugly, rainy day, when Mouse was staying at his apartment simply because he said he was tired, she had the idea to duck into his place to wait out the storm. 

It occurred to her that she honestly didn’t know whether she would be welcome. She wondered what that meant, but knew it couldn’t be good. Standing under the awning in front of his building, Laura looked back over their last few months, particularly since she’d gone back to being a street cop. He was not the same. They were not the same. He had little interest in sparring with her anymore, preferring to spend his training time on advanced techniques and spar with much higher-level students. He now spent almost as many nights alone at his place as he did at hers. And when they were together, it just didn’t feel as easy as it once had. It had happened so gradually that, until this moment of retrospection, she hadn’t truly seen it. Now that she did, she wondered what to do. 

She decided that running in a downpour wasn’t so bad after all, and left without Mouse even knowing she’d been there.

[1] If I take private lessons, will you do them in Spanish?

[2] I guess so, but if I’m going to be teaching you both Spanish and krav maga, I’m charging you double.

[3] Then I’ll expect you to correct my language mistakes, as well as my sparring ones.

[4] I can do that.


	15. Taking Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mouse tells his girlfriend that he is leaving Chicago to return to his unit in Afghanistan. She doesn't take it well.

The day Mouse told Laura that he was planning to return to his Ranger unit, and to Afghanistan, was the last time they ever woke up in the same bed. 

She looked at him in stunned disbelief and, at first, refused to accept that he was serious. He stood his ground, calmly assuring her that this was what he needed to do, and it wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. Then she became angry that he’d been considering such a radical step and hadn’t even bothered to mention it to her. 

Telling her he’d been discussing it with Halstead was the wrong move. She came unglued.

In the end, he remained stoic and firm while she first shouted, then cried, then threw him out of her apartment. 

“If you prefer getting blown up to staying with me, then go! Why don’t you start right now. Get out. And don’t expect me to be waiting around to pick up the pieces when you come back wrecked again.”

That had been a shitty thing to say, especially considering what he’d done for her. She pushed him toward the door much more out of mortification than anger. 

Laura had no idea what to make of the roiling mess of emotions coursing through her. She only knew that he was determined to go, and she was adamantly opposed to that. She refused to help him. She refused to go to Voight and ask him to help Mouse make his felony conviction go away. Unless that happened, Mouse couldn’t rejoin his unit, and that was the way Laura wanted it. 

She had known they were headed for a breakup. He had only become more distant in the weeks since she’d realized, that day in the rain, that things had changed. She didn’t want to break up; things were OK the way they were. But she also knew that was a pretty lame endorsement of their relationship and no reason at all to stay together when he wasn’t happy. 

But this? The idea that Mouse, once so traumatized by his time in Afghanistan, was now desperate to return, baffled her. And if she was being honest, it hurt that he preferred a war zone with his Ranger unit to Chicago with her. Like any woman, she resented being left, even if the relationship had faded to just “OK.” 

She was also scared. How would she be able to deal with her night terrors if he wasn’t there to reassure her? True, they happened less and less, but they still happened at least every week. Would she go back to where she’d been without him? She couldn’t face the idea of going back to those dark months of clawing for every moment of peace. 

But that fear was nothing to the dread of knowing that he was going back to a life where he was in danger every minute. She would have no way to know if he was OK, no way to help him if he wasn’t. She would be able only to worry and fear the worst, imagining this man she cherished wounded and in pain, or worse. 

Selfishly, she also wanted him to continue to be available to spar with her, infrequently as he did that now. Sparring with someone as advanced in hand to hand combat as Mouse was had challenged her to improve every new aspect of krav maga she learned. She wanted – needed – to earn her green belt as quickly as she could. Who would practice with her when it came time to test for it?

*******

Mouse called Laura from his apartment. He didn’t want to. He wasn’t tired of her, or mad at her, or even upset with her. In fact, he missed her terribly. Although they’d tried to act as normally as possible at work, they hadn’t seen each other outside of District 21 in over a week. He understood why she was angry and hurt. And he knew she was going to be even more upset when he told her the news that Platt had come through for him. 

Because he was leaving for Fort Benning in the morning. 

******

She ran along the river, dodging early tourists and professionals hurrying to work. Laura’s head, and heart, were full of Mouse. They had never been serious about love or a future together, but they had been very close. They’d had fun, and great sex, and been best friends for more than two years. And he had been steadfastly at her side through the worst thing that had ever happened to her. As the thought struck her that she didn’t want to lose that, hot tears broke free and coursed down her face. She’d already lost it. Only his body was still in Chicago. His heart was already gone. 

That was when she finally allowed herself to touch the well of sadness she hadn’t been able to face until now. She was heartbroken. She would miss Mouse’s voice, and his crooked smile, and his goofiness, and his lovemaking, and his unwavering support. A future without those things looked colorless and boring. She really hadn’t acknowledged the depth of her feelings for him before now. There’d been no reason to worry about it; they had all the time in the world. Until they didn’t. She may not have been in love with him, but she loved him deeply and permanently. And missing him was going to hurt like a bitch.

Running and crying wasn’t an entirely new experience for Laura. In the growing daylight, she doubted anyone would even notice, and it seemed like she could face hard facts more easily if she was pounding the pavement while she thought. Suddenly her music was too loud and jarring. She turned off her iPod. She needed to think. She didn’t want to feel these feelings, but Dr. Charles would tell her that the only way past them was through them. So she thought about Mouse leaving, and she let herself feel all the feelings that aroused, and she ran and cried.

*****

Mouse stood in the common area between the three gates at the end of his concourse. He’d always liked this concourse at O’Hare, with its industrial-looking metal detailing and glass ceiling overhead. As he looked back down the hallway, crowded with bustling travelers hurrying to wherever their lives were taking them, the bright sunlight streaming into the corridor almost made it seem as though they were outside. 

He knew he was doing the right thing. He was immensely grateful Jay had finally accepted that, and given Mouse his blessing to go. Halstead didn’t fully understand, but he would support Mouse anyway. It would have hurt like hell to leave Jay behind if he hadn’t. 

In fact, if he was honest, it would have hurt worse than leaving Laura did. She was wounded and pissed, and he understood that. He wished to hell he hadn’t had to hurt her. But she was going to be fine. She would forget him quickly – they had never promised each other anything, after all – and maybe go on to meet The One. He hoped so. She was an extraordinary woman. He’d been lucky to spend these years with her. 

But damn it stung to leave her the way she was feeling now. Tears he had no intention of shedding burned behind his eyes. He knew she thought he was a shit. Jay had promised to try to help her understand why he needed to go but, even if she did, she’d still probably hate him. The thought caused a lump in his throat and he found himself wiping his eyes despite his intentions. 

When he looked up, he blinked. Laura was walking through the large patches of sunlight toward him, wearing torn jeans and a button down shirt that allowed little glimpses of the skin of her hips above her waistband when she moved. And she was smiling at him.

He practically ran to scoop her up in his arms, lifting her off her feet and swinging her around like every cheesy movie he’d ever seen. Suddenly, he understood why the guys always did that. If he hadn’t blown off some of the joy he felt at seeing her, he’d probably have crushed her with his hug.

Both of them laughed as they hugged as tightly as they could. Laura didn’t know why. Somehow the laughter just broke free from her in her relief that he hadn’t left before she could say goodbye. 

They held each other, there in the sunny concourse, for a very long time, laughing and holding back tears simultaneously. Eventually, he released his hold on her enough to look at her.

“How did you get in here? I thought only passengers could come to the gate,” he asked through a dazzling smile, mostly because he couldn’t find the words to express what he was feeling.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling too and holding up a paper boarding pass. “You know anyone who wants a ticket to Akron?” 

He laughed as though she’d just told the best joke he’d ever heard. 

Suddenly, she was serious. “I had to see you. I had to apologize, and say goodbye, and tell you to be safe.”

The tears he’d been holding back broke free. He couldn’t speak, so he pulled her to him and kissed her. Hard. 

“I’m so glad,” he choked. “I’m so glad you came.”

She was suddenly crying herself, though trying to smile. “I couldn’t let you go hating me.” 

She kissed him then, more softly. The kiss wasn’t erotic, or intended to elicit pleasure. Rather, it was her way to communicate the way she felt about him. 

When the kiss ended, he looked into her eyes, his face still very close to hers. “I could never hate you, Laura. But I need you to promise me something.” 

She kissed him again. “Anything,” she breathed against his lips.

He gently put a finger under her chin, making her look at him. “I need you to promise not to wait for me.”

If she’d been crying before, she began to sob now. She pulled him to her, burying her face in his shoulder. She nodded against him.

“Promise me,” he whispered into her hair. 

“I promise,” came her muffled voice, before she looked up at him again, her eyes awash. “But you can’t stop me from praying for you. Every single day.”

He managed to smile. “I’d like that,” he said. 

And he let her go.

She stepped back from him, preparing to turn and walk back down the sunny concourse. “Be safe,” she said softly.

“I’ll see you around,” he answered.

She smiled, turned, and walked back the way she had come. She walked straight and tall, in case he watched her go. She knew he wouldn’t see that her face was a mask of pain.

He watched as her hair glistened in the sunlight, occasionally dimming as she passed under the struts supporting the glass roof. The crowd of travelers quickly blocked her from his view and, with a straightening of his shoulders, he turned his back on the sunlit corridor and toward his departure gate.


	16. What Can You Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank Voight realizes that OC Laura Parker's "cute" martial arts training might be serious. Antonio Dawson helps her demonstrate her ability to defend herself. Laura begins an affair with an unlikely partner.

Hank Voight had seen a million takedowns. But he’d never seen one where a three hundred pound, tatted-up gang banger looked at him from underneath a hundred-pound cop dressed like a hooker and asked him, in all sincerity, “What just happened?”

Voight couldn’t control the belly laugh that erupted from him. Part of it stemmed from the utter ridiculousness of the scene. The other part stemmed from his relief that he’d been right. He hadn’t been entirely confident in his judgment that Parker was ready for this assignment, but he’d made the call to bring her in based on the reports he routinely got – unknown to her – on her progress. It was no secret she was hungry. It was also no secret that she was one of his. So when he’d insisted on having her on the team for this undercover operation, no one had taken him on about it. 

He’d known that she was training in some Israeli martial art he could never remember the name of, which he thought could only be a good thing for her, personally and professionally. But after what he just saw, he no longer thought it was cute. 

“Parker, I need you to take your elbow out of the man’s throat.” 

She looked up at him, but didn’t remove the point of her left elbow from his neck. He noted that her right fist was held in her left hand, her right arm raised behind her, so that she could use the force of both arms if she had to jam her elbow into his larynx. 

“Stand down. That’s an order.” 

That night, after the debriefing, Voight asked Parker to stay behind. Dawson, as Voight’s second in command, stayed as well. Parker sat on the couch, Voight behind his desk, and Dawson stood, thumbs hooked in his pockets.

“Tell me what, exactly, you did back there,” Voight asked.

“What, with the arrest?”

Voight nodded. Parker looked nauseated. 

“I take it I fucked up.”

Voight’s eyebrows raised and he shared a look with Dawson, who actually grinned.

“No, you didn’t fuck up. You did good. I just wanna know how someone who goes -what? A buck? Buck ten? - took down a three hundred pound street thug.”

“Um… I’ve been training. Doesn’t matter how much he weighs or how big he is, he’s still only standing on two small feet. Take one out from under him, he’s subject to gravity, same as anyone.”

“So… what else can you do?” 

Laura gulped. “Sergeant, you remember when I got beat up. I’m not going back there. Plus, I’m a cop. I’m five foot two and, you know, they make most perps a lot bigger than that.”

“Look, you’re not in trouble. I’m not asking because you did anything wrong. I’m just… curious.”

“Well, I don’t really know how to answer your question. I got a green belt in krav maga, which means I’ve been training for a couple years, passed some tests…”

Dawson cleared his throat. “Hey, Sarge… I got an idea.” 

Antonio Dawson owned a boxing gym. He, Voight, and Parker met there the following day, with the intention that she could show them what she could do when attacked. At first, Antonio had been uncomfortable. As a boxer, he wasn’t used to pulling punches the way those who practiced martial arts had to pull their strikes. And he wasn’t used to attacking women, but that was his role. 

Antonio wore full protective gear, including groin and shin guards not worn for boxing that felt cumbersome and ridiculous. He continued to feel ridiculous until they began to spar and she landed a couple of good kicks to both places. He also needn’t have worried about pulling his punches. He rarely landed one. He was able to grab her, even throw her to the mat sometimes, but she was slippery as hell, and as fast as they’d guessed based upon her takedown of the gang banger. Dawson couldn’t keep hold of her. And she struck, kicked, and elbowed him everywhere she could, grunting or shouting with every effort. Theoretically, she was only demonstrating – not using her full force when she contacted him. But she sucked at it. He knew he’d have bruises. 

After a while, Antonio lost his discomfort about attacking her and began to use both boxing and street moves. He tried not to hurt her, and she tried not to hurt him. But they ended up balls-out sparring, both doing everything they could to take eachother down. Most of the time, he eventually won, but she was tenacious as hell. Even when he had her pinned, she simply would not give up. A few rounds, Voight actually had to yell at them to stop. And Dawson had to admit defeat himself a few times.

When they were done, both Parker and Dawson were laughing. They’d had a blast. 

“Where the hell you learn to trash-talk in Spanish like that?” Dawson asked, gasping from effort and smiling ear to ear as they fist bumped.

“My instructor’s Puerto Rican. Lots of Hispanics in his gym. You pick it up.” She led the way back to the locker rooms.

Voight sat thoughtfully rubbing his chin as Parker and Dawson showered and changed. She was no Bruce Lee. She was raw, made mistakes, could be overpowered, and lost more often than she won. But she had potential, and she had drive. He was going to have to think about that.

********

Laura hadn’t meant to seduce Eric. It wasn’t a particularly good idea, given his central role in her life and the fact that, since he was her krav maga instructor, she was supposed to defer to his authority at all times. It was just that it had been a year since Mouse had left, Eric had an insane body, and he was giving her a lesson late at night alone in his gym. What else could she do? Groin shots were legit in krav maga – anything that was going to incapacitate an adversary so you could escape – but there was nothing violent about the way she’d touched him. 

Eric never spoke English to Laura, no matter what they were doing. It was the first time she’d had sex where every word was in Spanish, and she found it hot as hell. Of course, in her current deprived state, she would’ve found pig latin sexy, but still.


	17. Showtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lieutenant Olivia Benson and Sergeant Fin Tutuola from NYPD's Special Victims Unit come to Chicago to work with Hank Voight's Intelligence unit to catch a rapist on a nationwide spree. OC Laura Parker is promoted from beat cop to officer in the Intelligence unit and goes undercover to help catch the rapist.

The party at Molly’s was still going at closing time. Although the Intelligence team tried to get him to keep the bar open and Otis was on their side, Hermann wasn’t budging. He had no interest in paying a fine for staying open after hours. 

Plenty of Laura’s friends other than the Intelligence team were there, as well. Maggie Lockwood and a couple of the other nurses she’d worked with at Med were there, along with Ethan Choi, Connor Rhodes, and most of Firehouse 51. Even Sharon Goodwin and Peter Stone had stopped by for a drink. Mostly they were just happy to have an excuse to party, but Laura was honored all the same. 

She could hardly believe this was happening. After only a few years on patrol, she had just been promoted to Intelligence. She had worked her ass off to get there, but she also knew Voight had pulled strings because he wanted to bring her into his unit. She accepted that; she was realistic about how the world worked, and she knew it was ridiculously early in her police career to have such an opportunity. She was grateful as hell.

In the years since the attack, Laura had walked home from Molly’s alone many times. She was stubborn enough to refuse to make a shrine out of the spot where she’d been abducted, or to allow that sick fuck to take any more from her than he had. Tonight, however, several of the die-hards who still wanted to party were walking together, because everyone but Laura was wasted and her apartment was closest. She had to laugh; she was having the best time of anyone, and she was the only one who wouldn’t wake up with a hangover. Who said alcoholism didn’t have an upside?

********

Two Years Later:

The two years Laura Parker had spent in Intelligence so far had been incredibly hard work. She’d been partnered with Al Olinsky, which could not have suited her better. He’d been a detective forever and seen it all. He didn’t stint on praise when she did well, but he also wasn’t shy about chewing her ass when she made mistakes. She learned more from him than she’d believed there was to know, including how to be a solid partner.

She had never experienced anything like the combination of highs and lows involved in being a Detective in CPD Intelligence. She trained with firepower she’d never in her wildest dreams imagined she’d be carrying. She got to participate in getting good people out of horrible situations, and putting very, very bad people in prison. She’d had the opportunity to go undercover on a number of occasions and found she had a talent for it, which Voight said was the natural extension of her generally being full of shit. But she also saw the worst of the worst; the ugliest things one human could do to another. And the hours were hellish.

Laura and Eric Hernandez had developed a very satisfactory “Instructor/Student with benefits” relationship, which worked perfectly for her. With the hours the Intelligence unit worked, she had little time for more than A.A. and the gym. Eric didn’t ask for anything. Whenever she had the time and inclination, he was happy to spend a few hours in bed with no expectations. And her Spanish improved quite a bit.

Now she was about to get to meet the legendary Olivia Benson and Fin Tutuola from the Manhattan Special Victims Unit of the NYPD. The Intelligence detectives who had worked with them before talked about them with respect bordering on reverence. Even Voight seemed to feel Benson was something of a big deal. Laura was actually fairly intimidated. 

The case was a rapist who had been on a nationwide spree, and was believed to currently be in Chicago, based upon the similar signature of a series of rapes there in the last month. He preyed upon women in their 30s, brunettes exclusively, and the press had dubbed him the Gentleman Barber because he befriended his victims prior to raping them, then viciously hacked their hair off afterward. 

Fin Tutuola made Laura feel like the geeky, sixteen-year-old girl from Bloomington, Illinois she’d been years before. He was so cool and quick with one-liners, and such an experienced cop, she found herself feeling shy and tongue-tied around him. He didn’t seem to have much use for a rookie like her, anyway; he barely looked at her. 

It was clear from the beginning that the relationship between Voight and Lieutenant Benson was strained. Listening to her give a briefing, it wasn’t hard to figure out why. She made a point of looking at Voight as, over and over, she stressed the importance of doing things by the book. Not Voight’s strong suit. Laura wondered what it would be like to work for someone like her, having worked for Voight for most of her police career. Laura understood that reform in the CPD had significantly curtailed some of the excesses she’d heard about, but she had still seen enough to know that Voight had little use – or patience – for procedure. Apparently, Olivia Benson was a very different breed. 

The Gentleman Barber struck the day after Tutuola and Benson arrived. Voight had sent Olinski and Parker to the scene with them, and Laura was looking forward to seeing what differences there would be in the way they worked a scene. 

As they walked around the apartment, looking at the scene and discussing what had happened, something struck Laura. As they studied and worked through the blood and semen stains on the carpet, she noticed a smudge low down on a nearby wall. She cocked her head as she looked at it, then back to the stains, then back to the smudge again. She went over to the wall to get a closer look at the smudge, surprised to find that it contained a few criss-cross marks. 

“Hey, how tall is this guy supposed to be?”

“Very,” Benson answered her. “All the victims mention that. Why?”

Laura caught the attention of a CSU tech who was still taking photographs. “Did you get shots of that smudge?” 

“What smudge?” The tech asked, looking blank. 

Laura then did something really strange. She moved close to the stains and stretched herself out over it, balancing on her hands and toes so she didn’t make any contact with the carpet near the stains. She didn’t see Fin and Olivia exchange troubled looks, because she was looking backward, over her feet. Directly at the smudge.

“That one,” Laura said. “It’s a shoe print. Could be his.”

Sure enough, when CSU measured, the print could have been made by someone lying over the stained area, if they were about six foot eight. They’d missed it because they hadn’t been thinking about someone that tall.

Fin and Olivia shared another look. 

The next time the rapist struck, they got a break. The victim had been able to stab him in the upper arm with a scissors. CPD announced this as widely as they could in the media, hoping that someone would come forward with a tip that could lead them to him. The tactic could have backfired; he could have left the city due to the publicity about his identifying injury, but Voight and Benson determined that it was worth the risk. 

It worked. They got a tip from a maid at an older economy motel that one of the motel’s guests, an extremely tall man, had some kind of wound to his left upper arm. The wound hadn’t been there when he’d checked in, and she’d noticed it on the day after the victim had stabbed the Gentleman Barber. The maid reported that there was a lot of gauze, tape, and antibiotic ointment in his room.

Laura got another surprise about Olivia Benson when A.S.A. Stone told her that he couldn’t get a search warrant for the motel room based on the shoe print and the maid’s story alone. She lit into him. Apparently, she seemed to think that, if she was outraged and sanctimonious enough, he would – what? Be shamed into requesting a search warrant they wouldn’t get? Again Laura asked herself what it would be like to work for someone like that. 

As he passed Laura on his way out of the bullpen, Peter leaned over to her and said, softly enough so only she could hear, “Glad that one’s in New York and we’re in Chicago.”

“Testify, Brother,” she muttered back.

Little did either of them know what their futures held.

Knowing who and where they thought the Gentleman Barber was, however, allowed them to set up a sting to hopefully catch him. They immediately staked out the motel and determined that he ate most of his meals at the diner next door. 

Unfortunately for Laura, she was the only brunette in her 30s on the team. For the next three days, she became a waitress at the diner. The guy was calling himself Dwight Carson, and the team couldn’t prove otherwise, because the fingerprints they lifted from the glasses and silverware he used weren’t in the system. The fingerprints also didn’t help because the Gentleman Barber hadn’t left fingerprints at the scene of any of his rapes. 

It wasn’t too difficult for Laura to develop a casual friendship with Dwight Carson. He was friendly and actually chatty. The next step was to give him the opportunity to attack. They accomplished that by a two-step process involving a very clumsy busboy at the diner and some creative maintenance to Laura’s car.

The busboy’s “accident” happened when Carson was pretty much finished with dinner. Ruzek, pretending to be the busboy, did a masterful job of taking a pratfall with a tray loaded down with soup and milkshakes that Halstead and Upton, as customers, had made sure to leave half-full. Carson was covered. Most importantly, his hair was full of soup, which meant he would need to shower. 

That allowed Fin and Olinsky to know where he was for the ten minutes they needed to safely install the tiny tracking device on Carson’s rental car, along with a camera and sound transmitter that were impossible to see even when you were looking right at them. If he was going to abduct Parker, he wasn’t going to get far.

After that, at closing time for the diner, Laura knocked on Carson’s door. 

With all the members of the team, along with several uniformed officers, stationed at strategic spots in both locations, she explained to Carson that her car wouldn’t start. Because she’d been the last to leave, there was no one left to give her a ride home. He seemed like a good guy, so would he please just give her a quick lift? It wasn’t far. He readily agreed. 

The drive to the little duplex was uneventful and, in fact, Carson didn’t even have much to say. Laura noticed that he seemed a little on edge. She hoped that meant the hook was set. He dropped her off, waited gallantly for her to wrestle the warped door open, and get safely inside. Then he drove off. 

But he didn’t return to the motel. Instead, Olinsky and Atwater tailed him to a Wal-Mart, where he purchased duct tape and a straight razor.

Got him.

The duplex was old and run-down, with sloping floors and windows that had either been painted closed or had been warped by heat and cold until they were all but impossible to open. It was stuffy as Laura waited inside, with nothing to do but listen to the step by step of Carson’s shopping trip on the tiny earpiece she wore. The rest of the team was in position, too. All of them were outside, because the duplex was simply too small to conceal another person inside. They couldn’t take the chance that Carson would see something amiss before he made an undeniable move to attack Laura.

At last, Olinsky’s voice came through the earpiece, announcing that Carson had parked his rental car down the block from the duplex, and was now on foot, skulking from house to house in an effort to avoid being seen in the light of the streetlights. When he reached the duplex, Laura took out her earpiece and picked up the book next to her on the bed. 

She heard the faintest click and squeak as the back door of the duplex opened slowly. Had she not known he was there, she doubted she would have noticed it. She knew there were cameras recording everything that happened in the little house, even in the darkened kitchen where he now was. 

Correction. He was now in the hallway outside the room she was in. She could hear the quietest brush of feet slowly, slowly moving toward her. Again, had she not known to listen for it, she wouldn’t have heard it. No wonder his victims had been completely surprised when he was suddenly just there beside them. 

He entered the room so quickly she actually jumped in surprise, even though she’d expected him. He wore gloves and had torn strips of duct tape lightly stuck to the black sweatshirt he wore. Clever. He wasted no time pulling one off as he grabbed for Laura’s right wrist. She struggled just enough to be convincing, yelling and swatting ineffectually at him. She let him capture her wrist and tape it securely to the headboard of the bed,

When he had her right wrist secured and was working on the left, she began to wonder where the team was. How far were they going to let this go? 

She started to hear banging and yelling, but it was still just her and Carson in the bedroom. She knew from the noise that the team was there, so she let him wrestle her left arm to the headboard and duct tape it securely. Now it really was time for them to stop this. Even Peter Stone would be satisfied with what they had now, she thought. 

But still she could hear only banging and then glass breaking. Carson seemed to be in some kind of world of his own, driven by a frenzy that blinded and deafened him to everything else, because he didn’t appear to register the noise of the team trying to enter. He was absolutely focused on his task.

Laura decided when he roughly tore the sheets from her and shoved the nightgown she wore to her waist that she had had enough. Whatever the team was doing, it wasn’t happening fast enough. She wasn’t willing to actually let this asshole rape her to get a conviction. 

She bent both legs toward her torso and then thrust them as fast as she could to either side of his neck, slamming them together and twisting abruptly to her left. In his surprise at being pulled down onto the bed, he didn’t escape in time to stop her from locking her feet behind his head and pulling his neck into the crook of her right knee, where she effectively locked him. 

When Olivia Benson and Fin Tutuola rushed into the room seconds later, they found Parker with her wrists securely duct taped to the headboard, and the rapist held by the neck between her legs, her left ankle hooked behind her right. He might eventually have been able to break free, but not before help arrived.

As Voight cuffed the Gentleman Barber and led him from the room, Fin cut Laura free from the headboard. 

Now Fin looked at her and seemed to actually see her. 

“You got a future in the WWF,” he said, smiling. 

“What took you so long?” She asked. 

Apparently, the doors and windows in the old duplex weren’t the only things that no longer moved freely. They had decided that she should lock the front door, but leave the back unlocked. They figured Carson would enter that way, and lots of people forgot to lock their back doors. They didn’t want him to be discouraged by having to pick such an old, heavy lock.

The problem had been that he’d locked the door behind him. Consistent with the rest of the house, the locks were rusty and corroded, and it had taken so long to get the doors open that Olivia and Fin had finally broken a window and entered that way.

Laura was thrilled to have been able to be a productive part of catching the Gentleman Barber. She wasn’t sure what she thought of Lieutenant Benson, but she definitely wanted her respect. And she was especially glad that she’d been able to show Sergeant Tutuola that she deserved to be part of the Intelligence unit. 

When Voight told her she’d done a good job, she was so happy that, although it was after 2 a.m. and therefore rude as hell, she booty called Eric anyway. He told her to come on over.


	18. Being There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone's father dies and OC Laura Parker goes to New York to support him through the funeral. Olivia Benson needs a new SVU Detective, and Hank Voight calls in a favor to get her to offer the job to Laura. D.A. Jack McCoy offers Peter a job at the same time, and Peter talks Laura into moving to New York.

There was only a text. Two words. But it was all she needed to know.

**Peter:**  
He died. 

**Laura:**   
On my way.

And then, being Peter, he texted:

**Peter:**  
I’m OK

She took a second to roll her eyes at that.

**Laura:**  
Still on my way. 

That one didn’t even get a response. 

Laura was grateful Peter had shared his father’s illness with her at all. He was private as hell; guarded even with her sometimes. But somebody had to support him as he walked through the emotional minefield he’d been in for weeks now, and she was honored he’d chosen her. Even after all they’d been through, Peter still knew he could count on Laura any time, for anything. The thought made her tear up a little. 

As she sat in the back of the cab on her way to the hotel, Laura thought about a lot of things. She thought about whether she was going to sleep with Peter. Hard no. She’d be an emotional mess in ten seconds, and she wasn’t about to mess with his head that way, either, especially now. Given their history, it was a miracle they’d managed to figure out a friendship.

She thought about what she could say to him. Nothing that would make any difference to the shitstorm in his heart. Peter both loved and hated his father, and now he would be grieving both the man he’d been and the man Peter had needed him to be. All Laura could do is tell him, as many times as he needed to hear it, that he wasn’t alone and that he’d be OK. 

And then she thought about Ben Stone himself. Laura had her own complicated relationship with Peter’s father. “Mr. Stone,” never “Ben,” even though he had been fairly kind and welcoming to her during most of her relationship with his son. She had tried hard, and succeeded in bonding with him a little over their shared Catholicism and, of course, Peter. The only obstacle Laura had run into in those early years was when she tried to express an interest in Peter’s sister, Pam. That effort had run into an absolute brick wall, and had actually cooled him toward her for a while. Apparently, Pam was not something Mr. Stone was willing to share with anyone. He barely discussed her with Peter. 

Winning Mr. Stone’s approval had been critical to her. At that point, she had expected him to be her children’s grandfather. He was important. For a while, Mr. Stone had treated her as though she was already his daughter in law. He wasn’t warm or affectionate, but he let her in.

All that was before the drinking. The first time Peter mentioned to his father that Laura had a drinking problem was fairly late in the game. After all, Peter had spent an enormous amount of time and effort lying for her and trying to protect her from the consequences of what she was doing. That confidence between Peter and his father was all it took to end, irrevocably, any kindness or consideration from Mr. Stone to Laura. He didn’t simply stop liking her. He developed an active dislike that caused him to urge Peter, over and over, to dump her and never look back. For Ben Stone, alcoholics were to be hated and shunned, period. Despite her years of sobriety, Mr. Stone’s loathing of Laura persisted until the day he died.

When she landed in New York, Laura checked into her hotel room, dumped her luggage, and texted Peter. He was at the courthouse talking with his father’s friend, District Attorney Jack McCoy. She headed there.

Peter let the door fall closed behind him. He stood just inside, simply looking around the darkened courtroom in the patchy, accidental light that came through the windows. He let it sink in. This room had been a vital part, perhaps the most important part, of Ben Stone’s life. Peter tried to feel his father in the room, but instead felt only the same cold emptiness. It frightened him. 

The building was venerable. Solid. The courtroom had a high ceiling and huge windows that rose from waist height nearly up to the ceiling. The walls were decorated with marble and carved paneling, with a seal of the State of New York hung just behind the Judge’s bench. A room meant to impress those who entered with the power of the State. The long pews were solid wood, the kind of thing furniture was never made from anymore, especially in a public building. Peter thought he could catch a faint scent of some sort of polishing wax. 

For long moments, Peter stood, imagining the many scenes – glorious, tragic, mind-numbingly mundane – that this room had seen. The thick quiet of the room enveloped him. As he stood unmoving, the stillness began to affect him. He felt as though the room was suspended outside of time, outside of the real world. 

Peter’s eyes were eventually drawn, as he knew they would be, just to the right of the gate into the well of the courtroom. There in the gloom, a simple wooden chair sat, neatly pushed under a plain wooden table. It was only natural, since that chair was his own domain as lead prosecutor in his trials. But not in this courtroom. In this courtroom, it had been his father’s domain. Ben’s Stone’s chair, day after day, trial after trial, through most of Peter’s life. 

Like a wraith, Peter silently moved down the aisle toward it. He moved as though sleepwalking, unaware of his own body as his thoughts and emotions swirled. Pulling out the creaky wooden chair, Peter took his father’s seat. He sat without moving, only his eyes sweeping gradually across the jury box, the witness stand, the judge’s bench. He told himself he was seeing what his father had seen. Peter tried to imagine his father’s thoughts. 

They would have been about evidence. Strategy. Precedent. Never about his son, a little boy desperate to please, and aching with loneliness for a father he barely knew.

It came upon him without warning. Peter was suddenly blasted from within by an overwhelming surge of loneliness and grief. He was six years old again, ten, thirteen… a hurt, confused kid in a baseball uniform, looking for his dad in the stands and knowing he would not be there. Knowing that this room, this chair, were what mattered to his father. Not the kid in the baseball uniform. Not Peter. And now, he never would matter to his father. 

The choked sob that tore its way through Peter felt like a wave of molten rock, heavy and scorching. He reached out his hands, laying them flat on the table in front of him for support. More acid cries were wrenched from his throat. He moved to bury his face in his hands, clenching his head as though to keep from flying apart into a million pieces. He struggled to gain control, tears flowing unchecked down his cheeks, his breath ragged.

He thought he heard the softest sniff behind him. He turned quickly, squinting through his tears into the shadowed rear of the courtroom. There, in the back row, leaning forward on the row in front of her, sat Laura, a tear glinting on her cheek in a shaft of light that fell across her from the window. 

Peter’s ravaged face was barely visible, but she could see him reach out a hand toward her.

Laura was instantly down the aisle and through the gate. She knelt before Peter, taking him into her arms. Great, wracking sobs broke from him as he buried his head in her shoulder, leaning all his weight on her. 

“I’m here,” she crooned, holding him tightly, beginning unconsciously to rock him as he cried. She could feel him tense, fighting to gain control of his grief.

“I’m sorry,” he wept.

“Just let go. I’m here. I promise, I’ve got you,” she soothed. With one hand, she began to stroke his hair.

And he did. Peter was barely aware of the animal groans and muffled wails he uttered as he allowed himself to give full vent to his pain. Laura simply held him, rocking him gently back and forth, murmuring words of love and comfort. Neither felt the passage of time. It may have been a few moments or a few hours that Peter wept bitterly, allowing himself to depend entirely upon Laura as he surrendered fully to his burning, crushing loss. 

When he seemed close to being spent, she lifted up from her knees to slip into his lap, never taking her arms from him. She cradled his head to her chest, still purring softly to him. Again and again she stroked and kissed his hair. “I know it hurts. I love you. I’ve got you…”

After a time, Peter quieted, sniffling and occasionally convulsed with the stuttering breaths that follow a hard cry. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said in a small voice.

A long time later, Peter and Laura emerged from the darkened courtroom. Each had both arms wrapped around the other, Laura’s head against Peter’s chest. It made for slightly ungainly progress, but it seemed to be what Peter needed at the moment. They saw no one in the hallway as they made their way to the door. 

“Let’s get you to the hotel,” Laura said. “You need to sleep.”

Ben Stone’s funeral was excruciating. It was lovely, and well-attended, but Peter sat like a statue every moment. In a room full of people, he seemed completely alone. He let Laura hold his hand, but otherwise seemed unable to accept any comfort. His responses to condolences from his father’s many friends and colleagues were polite, automatic. Apparently, he had shed all the tears he was going to over his father, which scared Laura. 

Laura was surprised to see Lieutenant Benson and Sergeant Tutuola at the church. The greetings were subdued, given the situation, but both had known Ben Stone, and wanted to pay their respects. Peter calmly and courteously accepted their condolences as though they were at a business meeting.

Olivia Benson pulled Laura aside. She looked over at Peter and then back to Laura.

“Are you two…?”

“Friends. Since college. I’m… backup.”

“Got it. Listen, it’s a strange coincidence that you’re here. I was going to get in touch with you. This isn’t the right time or place but, have a cup of coffee with me before you head back?”

Laura was disconcerted. What in the world could Lieutenant Benson want with her? It had been months since the Gentleman Barber case.

“Uh… of course.”

“I’ll text you.”

The coffee shop looked like every other coffee shop in the world. The last thing Laura needed was caffeine, given her level of nerves, so she ordered chamomile tea, the most soothing beverage she indulged in these days. She now knew what Benson wanted, and she didn’t have the first clue how to feel about it. Any of it.

When she’d called Hank Voight on the off chance that he might know what Benson wanted, she’d gotten a surprise. Voight knew all about it. Voight had made it happen.

“I figured she wouldn’t waste the opportunity,” he’d said.

“So you know what she wants?”

“She wants to tell you about your new job.”

“My new…”

“Your new job, Parker. She’s gonna offer you a place at SVU. And you’re gonna take it.”

“Wait, what? Are you firing me?”

“Talk to Benson.”

“Sergeant, this is… a lot. I live in Chicago. I can’t move to New York.”

“Talk to Benson.”

“What are you doing? Is this real?”

“Talk. To. Benson.” Voight had hung up on her.

Olivia Benson bustled in, caught sight of Laura, and gave a casual wave of recognition. Laura was so nervous she thought she might throw up. It appeared to her that the barista set a world record for longest time to put together a cup of tea and, even once Benson sat down, the pleasantries seemed to take forever before she finally got down to business.

“You talk to Voight?” Benson asked. 

“I called him last night. I thought maybe he would know what you wanted.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He said that you wanted to offer me a job.”

Benson’s laugh wasn’t pleasant. “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way. He called in a favor.”

“So you don’t want to offer me a job.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, either.”

Laura set her cup down on the table. “Lieutenant? This is pretty high stakes for me. With respect, could you just tell me what this is about?”

Benson raised an eyebrow. “Says what she’s thinking. Little bit of a double-edged sword there, but in this situation it’s a good thing. I need my detectives to be straight with me.”

Laura distinctly heard the word “detectives”, but she couldn’t ask about it and hold her breath at the same time. 

“SVU needs another detective. Numbers-wise, it should be a woman. Voight heard and called me. He says, and I’m quoting here, ‘You don’t hire Parker, you’re a fucking idiot.’” 

Laura was too anxious to smile. 

“You should know that I wouldn’t hire someone on Hank Voight’s word alone. I saw what you did on that case we worked in Chicago. I think you have potential. But there’s something else you should know. I’m not Hank Voight. In my unit, we don’t do things the way he does. You work for me, you play by the rules. If that’s a problem for you, this conversation is over.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good. I could give you a month to get out here, but not longer. Let me know.”

Benson held out her hand, and Laura shook it, actually trembling. Holy shit. She was being offered a job working sex crimes in New York. And a promotion to detective. How the hell had that happened? 

Peter felt as untethered as he ever had in his life. At his age, he shouldn’t be feeling like an orphan, especially when his old man had never been much of a father. But here he was. He lay on the bed in his hotel room, thinking, while Laura lay on the other side with her head at the foot of the bed, just letting him be. 

Jack McCoy had offered Peter a job. 

At least half an hour had to have passed since either Peter or Laura had said anything. Out of nowhere, Peter sat up and announced he was hungry. 

“In or out?” Laura asked. 

“Out. Definitely out.”

They ended up at a steakhouse a few blocks away, for a while just chatting rather than trying to tackle the major decisions they had to make. But it was impossible to avoid the topic for long.

“Adulting blows,” Laura observed.

Peter came as close to smiling as he had in days. “Maybe. But you know what, Sunshine? I’m starting to think I know what to do.”

She waited for him to continue. 

“Pam’s here. With Pop gone, I’m all she has. And this job offer, it’s a good one. Maybe this is a sign I’m supposed to come home.”

“Huh. Maybe it is.”

“And maybe it’s a sign you’re supposed to leave home. They’re making you a detective, Sunny. Anyway, you really think Voight’s gonna take ‘no’ for an answer?”

“It didn’t sound like it,” she admitted. “Benson, either.”

He looked her in the eyes. “Let’s move to New York.”

“I’m in,” she said, her voice shaking.


	19. On The First Day...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The SVU squad welcomes a new member, OC Laura Parker. Laura meets A.D.A. Rafael Barba who is brusque to the point of rudeness. Nobody warned her that he is also extremely attractive.

Sonny Carisi stared at the vending machine in disbelief. The bag of potato chips was poised impossibly on the edge of its seal, one corner on the shelf and the other on the corkscrew that was supposed to have knocked it down into the tray where he could take it out. The expression on his face was so funny that Laura bit her tongue to keep from laughing. 

“You have got to be kidding me. Look at that. That defies the laws of physics. Maybe I can rock it free.” He moved his hands into different positions, trying to figure out how to grab the huge machine in a way that would allow him to rock it. Realizing the futility of jarring the potato chips loose, he gave up.

That did it. The laugh she was trying to suppress burst forth.

He gave her a look. “Yeah, thanks a lot. That what passes for support in Chicago?” 

He turned and walked back into the squad room, disgusted.

Still laughing, Laura dug change from her pocket and bought a bag of the same chips. As expected, the second bag knocked the first free, and both fell into the tray. She went back into the squad room and plunked the chips down on Sonny’s desk without a word.

He gave her a brilliant smile and thanked her. “We’ll make a New Yorker out of you yet,” he said. 

_Good grief_, she thought for the ten thousandth time since they’d met a few days before. _That is one tasty man._ She flicked a look at Amanda Rollins.

Laura really liked both Carisi and Rollins. In fact, she liked the whole squad. 

Her first week on the job, Rollins invited everyone over for dinner – which she noticed Carisi cooked – so they would have the opportunity to get to know one another. 

Laura politely declined a glass of wine and, figuring she might as well get it out from the beginning, explained that she was in recovery. She knew instantly from Amanda’s reaction that she’d found one of her tribe. The discovery led to the instant bond that addicts in recovery share. Whereas she’d been somewhat intimidated by Amanda’s experience and beauty, Laura suddenly felt like Amanda had the potential to become a close friend.

“We’ll have to catch a meeting together,” Amanda said.

“That would be great. I’d love to know which ones to avoid.”

“Absolutely. Why should you repeat my mistakes?”

“I made quite enough mistakes _before_ I started A.A.” Laura grimaced.

Amanda clinked her glass with Laura’s. “Ah, yes. I recognize that guilt.”

“I was raised Catholic,” Laura told her. “I got guilt on lock.”

Laura saw the entire room turn to look at Carisi.

“Hey, I’m raised Catholic, too,” he announced.

“Peace be with you,” she said, smiling widely as she held her hand out.

“And with your spirit,” he responded with mock seriousness. 

As much as she loved her team in Chicago, she thought she might find herself liking this group just as well. Amanda’s daughter Jessie sealed the deal by being unable to pronounce Laura’s name. Olivia’s son Noah instantly adopted Jessie’s pronunciation and Laura became “Aunt Lala”. Somehow, that sweet nickname made her feel like she was being welcomed into a family. This group seemed to genuinely like and care for one another and to be willing to let her in. That night, for the first time since leaving Chicago, Laura didn’t feel homesick. 

She was also re-thinking her first impression of Lieutenant Benson. Laura had learned quite a bit about Olivia Benson just during the short time she’d been at SVU. She thought that, if she’d been through and seen what her Lieutenant had, she would probably be a crusader, too.

The day after the dinner, Fin took the lead on questioning a suspect he and Parker had brought in after DNA implicated him in a rape. Fin wanted Laura to observe and learn how SVU did things, rather than participate, so she stood against a wall of the box while he questioned the suspect. Lieutenant Benson stood watching from the other side of the one-way glass. 

“So what are we looking at?” 

She turned to see A.D.A. Barba had stepped up beside her and was looking into the interrogation room. “That’s the suspect in the Mazie Anderson case. He’s been in there about an hour. Still maintains his innocence.”

“What’s wrong with his face?”

“Fin and Parker had a little trouble arresting him. Which reminds me, you haven’t met my new detective yet. I’ll introduce you. Suspect’s not going anywhere.”

Benson knocked on the window and Fin and Laura stepped out. Rafael noticed the suspect kept his eyes warily on Parker as they left the room. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and she wore a cashmere sweater over slacks. It was pretty much the standard uniform for SVU’s female detectives, but Rafael noted that they weren’t the standard quality. They looked expensive. 

“Laura Parker, let me introduce you to Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba. He prosecutes a lot of our cases. You’ll be working together quite a bit.”

Laura and Rafael shook hands and made the usual polite introductory noises. She was surprised, but tried not to show it. Nobody had told her about that hair and those eyes. And that voice. _So that’s A.D.A. Barba._

Without spending an extra second on pleasantries, Barba turned to Fin. “I understand you had some trouble with the arrest?”

Fin shrugged. “Dude’s innocent. Haven’t you heard?”

“Detective, I don’t have to tell you, it always looks bad when a suspect is injured during an arrest.”

Fin, hands in the pockets of his black jeans, casually indicated Laura with an elbow. “Wasn’t me. Talk to the Vanilla Killa over there.”

Barba turned his eyes on Laura.

She was calm, but earnest. “It was legit. He was mad to begin with that we came to where he works, and then when I went to arrest him, he swung on me.”

“You don’t have a mark on you.”

“I ducked.”

Rafael blinked. Then he blinked again.

“That’s your story? He tried to hit you, but you ducked?”

“I had time to order a latte before that punch would’ve landed. The big ones are always slow.”

Rafael had absolutely no idea what to make of that. “Then why is he injured?”

“He went after me. He wasn’t coming in voluntarily.”

Rafael looked back to Fin.

“For real,” Fin assured him. “I was there. About ten witnesses saw it, too. Girl’s got moves.”

Rafael looked at Laura. “Huh. Well, Detective, for future reference, it makes my job harder when you beat up the suspects.”

“Sorry,” Laura muttered vaguely. 

In that instant, she learned what the deer feels like when it gets hit with the headlights. _What did he just do? What was that look? Was that his pissed look? Sweet merciful heaven, I want to piss that man off for the rest of my life. I am actually wet because of the way he just looked at me. Note to self: Quit hanging out with Peter and get laid._

Fin and Parker returned to their interrogation.

Rafael, somewhat at a loss, turned to Olivia. “Did I just have to tell a woman smaller than my _abuelita_ not to beat up the suspects?” 

“The unit she comes from has… a different way of doing things. Don’t worry. It’s not going to be a problem.”

Late that evening, Rafael strode into the squad room. His day had started lousy and plummeted from there. Now it was after eight o’clock and he was nowhere near done with his workday. He wasn’t sure whether Benson could get him what he was there to ask for, but he had to try. Without more, their case was dead in the water and a monster who killed a kid could go free. He was in a mood.

He noticed halfway across the room that there were no lights on in Olivia’s office. 

“_¡Joder!"[1]_ he hissed to himself. Why had he expected anything different today? 

He thought he could hear a faint snicker. Turning, he saw the new detective, just rising from her desk. Her look was entirely serious, but he had the sense that she was biting back a smile. 

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“I’m looking for Lieutenant Benson.”

“She’s out in the field. Not expected back for some time, I’m afraid. Maybe I can help you.” 

“I doubt that.”

He didn’t have time to wait, and he was absolutely in no mood to humor Liv’s new detective, even if she did have nice taste in clothes. He turned on his heel and, without another word to her, strode angrily back the way he had come, muttering to himself.

"_Un bebé policía. Perfecto. Es todo lo que necesito._”[2]

“_Podría ser. Supongo que nunca lo sabrás._”[3] 

Rafael took a few more steps and muttered a few more words before it hit him. He stopped and turned back to her.

“Excuse me?”

“_Realmente no deberías murmurar sobre alguien hasta que sepas si ella habla español. Incluso si ella es una gringa._”[4] She shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

Rafael sighed loud and long. He took a few steps toward her. 

“I’m actually slightly less of a bastard than I appear right this minute.”

She gave him a friendly smile, letting him off the hook. “That seems to be the general opinion around here. I’ll ask Lieutenant Benson to call you as soon as I hear from her.”

“Thank you.”

For an awkward moment, they stood stiffly facing one another. 

“By the way,” he said, “Your accent is horrific and your syntax is… weird.” 

That should probably have hurt her feelings, and it might have, except that he gave her that look again. That smug, disapproving look from under his eyebrows that hit her somewhere south of the waist. Was he _trying_ to smoulder? 

All she could think to do was laugh. As soon as he turned the corner, she was going to crawl under her desk in embarrassment for having such a childish reaction. But for now, she just had to brazen it out.

Rafael scowled as he walked out of the squad room. What the hell had made him say something so gratuitously harsh? No wonder she laughed at him. _Dios mio_,[5] she has a great laugh. 

He could feel very uncomfortable internal alarms going off. Alarms he hadn’t felt in a long time. One thing he knew. He and she were not going to be spending much time together.

[1] Fuck!

[2] A baby cop. Perfect. That’s all I need.

[3] Could be. Guess you’ll never know.

[4] You really shouldn’t mutter about someone until you know if she speaks Spanish. Even if she is a gringa.

[5] My God


	20. The Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba is unimpressed when he meets Peter Stone. Barba learns that Stone is in a relationship with OC Laura Parker, the newest detective in SVU. Although he hates Stone, he is glad Detective Parker is safely unavailable, because he is too attracted to her for his own good. Peter helps Laura buy a couch, leading both of them to remember sleeping together on their trip from Chicago to New York. Barba says the wrong thing to Laura, who goes to his office to confront him.

Ugh. Spoiled, entitled prep school jock with a chiseled chin and washboard abs. Rafael could not wait until he could escape this meet and greet. He’d heard that Peter Stone had made quite a name for himself as a prosecutor in Chicago, but how hard could it have been for a guy like that to swan his way up the ranks? He was pretty much the poster child for straight, white, male privilege. Asshole. Juries probably didn’t hear a word he said, just sat there fantasizing about bouncing quarters off his perfect ass. Everything about him rubbed Rafael the wrong way, including the fact that his position at the D.A.’s office had been simply handed to him tied with a ribbon because of who his father was. Barba shook hands with Stone for appearances’ sake, then spent the remainder of his obligatory ten minutes in the conference room absorbed in his phone trying not to make faces. 

At the end of the day, Barba made his way out the door into the late spring evening, grateful to be leaving the office before midnight. He did have some work in his briefcase for later, but at least he’d be comfortable at home. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught that new arrogant ass Stone standing on the sidewalk, being greeted with a hug by a woman who reminded him vaguely of someone. As he turned his head to glance at them, he realized she reminded him of Liv’s new detective. Because she was Liv’s new detective. It abruptly struck Rafael that Stone had just come from Chicago, and so had she.

Oh.

It came as a relief to him to learn that Detective Parker was in a relationship. That meant he could relax and just appreciate the way her clothes hugged her in all the right places. And he could admit that she made him laugh despite his intentions. He didn’t even need to worry that he found the way she overpronounced consonants in Spanish uncomfortably cute. 

But it only made Stone more irritating to Rafael. Of course Stone would be with a woman like her. As he approached the parking garage, Rafael suddenly caught himself wondering what she’d be like in bed. He couldn’t help noticing that she had a superb body, and was apparently pretty… physical. _¡Coño! Shut up, Barba._

“You sure this is the one?” 

“You don’t care if I’m sure. You just don’t want to move a couch.”

“Obviously. But you dragged me here, so if that’s the one you want, let’s do this.”

Laura looked around for the salesperson who had been hovering annoyingly for the past hour, now ironically nowhere to be found. In fact, it felt like now that they needed help, she and Peter were suddenly all alone in the furniture store. 

“No one’s looking. Put it under your coat and let’s bolt.”

“I’d prefer not to get busted in my first week at the D.A.’s office.”

“I got my shield. I’ll arrest you, and we’ll say the couch is evidence.”

“You just want to flash your shield at people. You’re like a kid. Anyway, here he comes…”

The salesman and Peter wrestled Laura’s new couch into the back of Peter’s SUV, with about a third of it hanging out the back flagged with a big red piece of flapping plastic. Peter got progressively crankier as they reached Laura’s building and borrowed a dolly from the property manager. By the time they finally had the couch in her living room, he was barely speaking except to complain. 

Fortunately, Laura had known Peter a long time. While he returned the dolly, she answered a knock on her door to a guy waiting impatiently with bags of aromatic Thai food. Peter was delighted when he came back to the apartment and saw it, immediately opening boxes and eating. As always, he didn’t bother with dishes. 

“When did you call for take out?” He asked with his mouth full.

“At the store when you were loading the couch.” 

“You’re a genius.”

“You’re a jerk when you’re hungry.”

He didn’t stop eating, even while he chuckled. 

When dinner was over, Peter sprawled across Laura’s new couch, looking half asleep. 

“I met your D.A. today.”

“Barba? What did you think?”

“Didn’t have the chance to say more than three words to him. McCoy had all the A.D.A.s stop by so we could meet – I don’t know why they do that. I won’t remember one of their names.”

“Except Barba.”

“They say he’s good. If half the stories are true, you should do OK with him.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Apparently he got a guy convicted by letting the guy choke him with a belt in front of the jury.”

“Seriously? Barba?”

“That’s the story.” 

“I can’t imagine that. He seems really… I don’t know. Tightly wound.” 

“You don’t like him?”

“He’s barely spoken to me. I’m beneath his notice. Although he has managed to mention about seventeen things I’ve done wrong. So there’s that.”

“Give him a shot,” Peter said, rolling to a sitting position and leaning over to kiss Laura on the cheek as she sat on the floor in front of the couch. “I gotta get going. I’m dead on my feet.”

“Thanks for helping me with the couch. I appreciate it.”

“You only love me for my body.”

“Mmm-hmm.” 

It had been nice for Laura, seeing Peter, if only for a couple of hours. Or maybe because it had only been for a couple of hours. Peter was never going to be just a casual friend to her, no matter how much she might want that. Several times during the process of moving from Chicago to New York, she had thought they’d made a mistake doing it together. Not because she hadn’t enjoyed spending so much time together again. Just the opposite. She had enjoyed it too much. She had enjoyed him too much.

Peter’s forehead was creased with the wrinkles of troubled thoughts as he took the stairs down to the street. There were no easy answers with him and Laura. They’d decided to stay in each other’s lives because, having reconnected, they weren’t willing to give up the bond that existed between them. Romance aside, he liked Laura better than anyone else in the world. But “romance aside” was a whole lot easier said than done, because he was also in love with her. Trying to maintain a friendship and keep their mutual love out of it was very, very difficult at times. Like now. He would like nothing better than to be back in her apartment, with her writhing and moaning beneath him on her new couch. And he knew he could have persuaded her to do it.

But there was no point torturing himself, or her, when they both knew that indulging that want would only lead to the same heartache they’d already survived. Sooner or later, their past would catch up with them.

As he drove to his own apartment, he thought about their trip from Chicago. He and Laura had arranged to start their new jobs on the same day, so that they could drive to New York together with everything they owned stuffed into Peter’s SUV pulling a rented trailer. The problem was, helping each other pack their belongings into the trailer and then spending two days driving together had reminded him of all the reasons he’d fallen in love with her in the first place. They’d had the opportunity to really talk, to reestablish their friendship and attachment to each other. They caught fully up with one another’s lives, laughed over old jokes, and created new ones. They’d listened to all the eclectic old music they both loved and that had been the soundtrack of their life together.

For all sorts of reasons, they’d decided to break the trip into two easy days and spend a night in Cleveland. In retrospect, things would be simpler now if they’d just driven straight through. 

They’d decided to stay at a nice hotel rather than a roadside cookie cutter place, and had rooms next door to one another. Once they’d checked in and found the hotel’s restaurant, they enjoyed a laughter-filled dinner that was a little more romantic than he’d wished it was. Since it was a weeknight, they’d had the restaurant practically to themselves. She had looked so beautiful in the candlelight, with her hair picking up the glow and her eyes sparkling with humor as she smiled at him, he couldn’t help but flirt with her. She didn’t seem to mind. He remembered trying not to wish this dinner was the beginning of a long evening of seducing her. 

Peter had suggested that, since the hotel had a great pool and they were both stiff and sore from the drive, they should take a swim and maybe soak in the hot tub. She had agreed and they’d gone to their separate rooms to change. 

When Laura had arrived at the pool, there had been no one there except Peter, who was already swimming laps. It had been a very long time since she’d seen him in nothing but swimming trunks, and she couldn’t help but stare. He was magnificent. His long, clean strokes showed off the definition of his muscular arms and back, gleaming with water under the lights. 

The water had felt wonderful, relaxing and invigorating as they moved and worked their muscles. Peter had gotten out of the pool first and, like Laura, took the opportunity to stand with a towel around his neck, watching and appreciating. 

After her last lap, they stepped carefully across the tile of the pool room and slowly eased themselves into the bubbling, steaming water. They sat side by side, not touching except where one of Peter’s outstretched arms came in contact with the back of Laura’s damp hair. For a few moments, neither spoke. 

Peter started to stroke Laura’s hair with the back of his fingers. Although he tried to seem unconscious of doing it, in fact, they were both exquisitely aware of what he was doing. Without looking at him, Laura softly tried to object. 

“Peter…”

He simply slid his arm behind her and gently but firmly pulled her next to him. She melted into his side with a sigh as he rested his cheek against her head. 

“Just be here with me for a minute.”

Laura let herself believe that she could just enjoy his nearness and the feel of his bare skin for a few moments before he would take his arm from her and move away. That transparent self-delusion allowed her to lose herself in this moment without fear that she would have to be the one to control herself. 

Of course, he didn’t let her go or move away. Instead, he reached his free arm around to cup her chin and pull her lips to his. He hadn’t been able to restrain himself and she was absolutely incapable of resisting. On some level, they’d both known when they decided to stop for the night that this would happen. They’d wanted it to, even though it would complicate things. Their arms were instantly wrapped around one another as he pulled her into his lap and kissed her senseless. They were beyond thinking, able only to feel a vague danger behind a profound need that had them both breathless as they devoured one another’s mouths. 

Laura completely forgot that they were in a hotel, in full view of a security camera and anyone who happened to come in. She kissed Peter with all the love and passion she felt for him, lust overwhelming her senses as she lifted herself off him long enough to straddle him, never breaking their kiss. She sat moving her pelvis against his erection in the swirling, steaming water, then began to move one hand from his back across his shoulder, dimly intending to slip it between them to take him into her hand. She was fully ready to draw him into her, right there in the hot tub. 

In the back of her mind, she laughed at herself. She’d purposely worn a one-piece swimsuit. Bikinis were too overtly sexy, and their bottoms were too easily removed; she’d told herself that her simple black suit was a much better choice for the chaste friendship she and Peter were trying to have. But this sultry, hungry grinding had always been more likely, and now she was determined to have him inside her, swimsuit or not.

Peter, however, reluctantly began to slow his kisses. He gradually backed off the pressure with which he was crushing her to him. She moaned in protest and tried to resist, pulling him closer and kissing him with increased fervor. But he persisted. Eventually they sat, foreheads together, panting and trying to gain control of their desire. 

When they had caught their breaths a bit, Peter moved Laura off of him and set her down on the shelf-like bench under the water. He moved away from her. 

“You stay there,” he said, still a bit breathless but grinning apologetically. 

Laura was desperately conflicted. She wanted him passionately, and knew that he wouldn’t take much convincing to let her do all the things she wanted to do to him. But that would only make it harder for them going forward. 

They gazed at eachother from their separate positions. Both felt the same way. Neither wanted to say the words that would mean they couldn’t give in to their desire, but neither wanted the inevitable consequences. Finally, when their breathing had slowed and their ardor cooled somewhat, Peter spoke.

“Do I owe you an apology?”

Laura made a face. “No, of course not. I just wish it wasn’t so hard being around you and not touching you.”

“Is it?”

“You know it is.”

“Sunshine.” The look on his face was pure proposition.

“Don’t, Peter. I can’t say no to you.”

“Then say yes. Just tonight. This hotel is Vegas. What happens here stays here.”

“That’s not how it works. Not for me, with you.” 

She shook her head and began to climb out of the hot tub. He followed. They used their towels to dry off as well as they could, and put on the t-shirts they’d worn over their swimsuits. Although Laura’s was oversized, Peter noticed that it barely covered the tops of her legs as he followed her from the pool area, down the hallway, and up the stairs to their third-floor rooms.

He kept following her into her room. Without a word, she stepped aside to let him pass, then closed the door behind him.

“Peter…” She sighed, trying one last time.

He moved to take her in his arms. “Take a shower with me. Let me make love to you. You know how good we are together. I want you. I want this. And so do you.”

“I do want you, but it’s a bad idea,” Laura murmured, surrendering to the truth as she pulled his shirt up his torso. 

“Terrible,” he agreed, yanking it over his head and dropping it. She lifted her arms while he pulled her T-shirt off, then dropped them as he slid the straps of her swimsuit from her shoulders and pulled it down her body to drop to the floor. When he kissed her, the kiss was slow, soft, and deep. The decision made, they could take as much time as their lust would allow. It took them a long time to make it into the shower.

It was a good thing they’d given themselves extra time to get to New York and get settled. They had stayed an extra two days in Cleveland.

In her fourth week at SVU, Laura was still on a steep learning curve. Lieutenant Benson was very different from Hank Voight, and the crimes they investigated were, in many ways, much more personal and devastating to the victims than those she’d worked in Intelligence. She was learning a whole new set of interview skills, and a new way of approaching investigations. The crimes the Intelligence unit had worked were usually about people protecting their illegal businesses. In SVU, the crimes had much more complex motives. 

The squad stood or sat in the common area, studying the case board they’d been able to construct with what they knew so far. It was starting to come together. Everyone on the team had suggestions, theories, and insight to contribute, and the meeting was close to breaking up.

“We’ll re-interview the other students in the dorm who heard the fight, see if anyone heard two male voices in that room,” Olivia said to Barba, standing up and collecting her things from the table. 

Barba, sitting on the edge of the table, took the last swallow of his coffee. “See if you can find the rest of the girl’s study group. I still think they know more than they’re saying.”

“Maybe, but I’m not sure how much that helps, given the timeline,” Laura said. “We might do better looking for whoever walked her back to the dorm.”

Barba kept looking at Benson as he said to Laura, “Hush. Adults are talking.”

He continued addressing Olivia with more instructions.

Laura saw red. She was sure her mouth was hanging open in her humiliated rage, which only intensified as it sunk in what he had just said to her, in front of her Lieutenant and her squad. Those who had been sitting scooted back their chairs and rose, moving to get to their various assignments. 

Carisi stepped close to her as they crossed the room to their desks. “Don’t take that too seriously, he’s like that with everyone. Barba’s… an acquired taste.”

She pretended to shrug it off, appreciating Carisi’s friendly words, but she was too furious to speak. Had she been alone, she would have burst into hot, angry tears. She grabbed her jacket, grateful that she and Fin were leaving the squad room before she said or did something she’d regret. Although no one had seemed to react, which supported what Carisi had said, she was still embarrassed and very, very angry. _I don’t care who the fuck he is, or how much of an asshole he is to everyone else. Nobody gets to speak to me like that._

It was still light outside when Fin and Parker finished their interviews on campus. Laura was calmer, having had a few hours to think about what Barba had said, but still by no means over it. It was fairly early. He would probably still be in his office… 

Hearing her knock, Rafael looked up from some papers he’d picked up from his desktop. “Detective?”

Laura took a breath and said, “With all due respect, Mr. Barba, I need to ask you not to do that again.”

“Do what?” He was only half listening, already beginning to read the papers in his hand.

“Speak to me the way you did today. It’s demeaning to me and, frankly, even more so to you. I don’t expect you to listen to me, I don’t even need you to acknowledge me. But if you do speak to me, please do it with common courtesy.”

He looked up in some surprise. “Really? The newest detective in SVU is standing in my office calling me out.”

“Apparently.”

He briefly considered being offended by the audacity of this new detective. But he liked audacity. Besides that, he could see that she was deeply angry. He didn’t even know what he’d said to piss her off, but he knew himself well enough to know it was entirely possible that, whatever it was, it had been over the line. He appreciated the effort she must be making to be as respectful and polite as she was, given that he could tell she wanted to throttle him. He was intrigued. 

“And you thought you should come here and set me straight.” 

“Not at all. Carisi says you talk to everyone like that. Fine with me. I don’t care how you talk to everyone else. But I am a woman in what is still very much a man’s world. I can’t afford to let anyone talk down to me.”

“I see. In that case, I apologize. I meant no disrespect.”

“To be honest, it’s mostly that it was so dickish. I’d like to think you’re not a dick.”

He fought a grin. “And now you’re standing in my office calling me a dick.”

“To be precise, I called your behavior dickish. And I said I think you’re not a dick.”

Rafael looked at her for a long moment, waiting for her to crack a smile. She didn’t.

“And now, if I don’t do as you ask, I’ll be proving to you that I am a dick. Well played.”

She didn’t respond. This woman was genuinely pissed, and not at all charmed by his attempt at a joke.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” he said, as sincerely as he could manage under these strange circumstances.

“Thank you.” She said, a note of genuine gratitude in her voice and her expression entirely serious. 

As she walked out, closing the door behind her, she hoped she hadn’t just made a big mistake. But she didn’t think so. He was having trouble keeping a straight face. He could have been amused by her, which would piss her off. But she was very good at reading people, and what she was getting from him was different. She thought he actually respected that she’d stood up to him. And she definitely felt better

He stared at the door after she was gone, a wide smile on his face. He shook his head and began to laugh. He was still laughing when he walked around his desk and sat down. This conversation had actually been pretty unflattering to him. But he couldn’t stop laughing nonetheless. Detective Laura Parker had chutzpah. She wasn’t the least bit in awe of him. In fact, she had been perfectly politic as she basically called him a dick to his face. And since she was safely unavailable, he found himself looking forward to working with her.


	21. Playing Charades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The SVU squad interrogates a suspect who is an "Incel". OC Laura Parker asks Rafael Barba to help her use the suspect's "involuntary celibacy" against him.

If Mazie Anderson was having difficulty handling her emotions after being raped, she did a good job hiding it. Nonetheless, she was entitled to the same support any victim received. Which meant that, when she insisted on attending the arraignment of the man who’d attacked her, Laura went with her. The arraignment docket dragged on and on, with little to break the monotony. Eventually, however, the case was called and a junior A.D.A. Laura hadn’t met stood to request a very high bail. Mazie looked the rapist full in the face and sat calmly as he was arraigned. Bail was set at $100,000, which meant he couldn’t bond out for less than $10,000. It was enough. 

Laura put Mazie in a cab and headed to work herself. Since becoming a cop, she’d always hated court days because she felt like she was missing out on the action. Today was no different. 

When she got to the station, Fin and Carisi had a goofy-looking guy in the box who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He was pale and sweating, but that seemed to be his normal state, because he wasn’t frightened. He was mad. As Laura stepped up to the window into the interrogation room, she could hear him spewing venomous misogynistic slogans that sounded like they came straight off the internet. Which they did. “Involuntary Celibates,” or “Incels” as they liked to call themselves, had possibly been created by the internet. They were guys who couldn’t figure out how to relate to women and had convinced one another that all women were part of a conspiracy to deny them attention, love, and especially sex. They spent all their time on hate-filled websites with like-minded idiots, regurgitating the idea that women owed them all of those things, without them needing to be worthy of any of them. They repeated it to each other until they believed it. 

Lieutenant Benson and A.D.A. Barba stood at the window, watching and listening. Laura figured that, given their last conversation, it was the better part of valor not to stand next to Barba. She took a place on the other side of Benson. 

“Incels. I love these guys,” Laura said by way of greeting.

“You love these guys?” Benson asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They’re so easy to break. All you have to do is give them what they want, and they freak out.”

Barba kept his eyes on the interrogation as he muttered, “Define ‘give them what they want’.”

Amanda Rollins stepped up at that moment. “Act interested. They don’t know what to do with a girl who says yes, so they fall all over themselves and give you everything.” 

“Want us to give it a try?” Laura looked hopefully at Benson who, in turn, looked at Barba.

“We don’t really need to listen to any more of this crap, do we?” She asked him.

“We’ve got plenty to show motive. But we’re nowhere near a confession. It couldn’t hurt.”

Olivia nodded. “OK. You’re up.”

Laura turned to Amanda. “You or me?”

Rollins held up a fist. “Loser goes in.”

Laura put up her fist, they shook three times, and Laura threw paper. Amanda threw scissors.

“Damn it,” Laura laughed, not really disappointed. This could be fun. “Help me get ready.”

When Parker and Rollins returned to the interrogation room door, Laura had removed almost all her makeup. She had on just enough mascara to highlight her large, brown eyes. Instead of the chic suit she’d spent too much on, she wore a simple white sleeveless turtleneck, a skirt that came to mid-thigh and swung around her legs as she moved, and low heels. Her hair was down, in a simple style with the front pulled to one side in a barrette, and she was wearing glasses. The changes were subtle, but the effect was dramatic. She looked vulnerable and insecure as she stood there clutching a clipboard to her chest. Barba instantly wanted to protect her.

“OK,” Olivia smiled. “I’ll go pull Fin and Carisi out.”

“Don’t let ‘em clean off the table,” Rollins suggested.

“I know what you have in mind. I’ve already briefed Fin.”

As Benson went into the interrogation room, Laura turned to Barba, addressing him directly for the first time since she’d gone to his office the night before. Her eyes were full of mischief, something he suspected was not unusual with her.

“I could use your help.”

“What do you need?”

“Remember what we talked about yesterday? Could you give me time to bond with him a little bit, and then come in and do your thing?” 

“Now you _want_ me to talk down to you,” he said drily.

“Might as well use your powers for good.” She smiled up at him.

_Jesus y Santa Maria_. For a moment, he was dumbstruck as he felt the full impact of the impish, conspiratorial expression she beamed at him. What would it be like to share plots and secrets with this woman? Barba’s dislike of Peter Stone doubled in that moment. 

“Fin, Carisi, I need you to come with me. We have a situation,” Benson ordered, keeping her hand on the doorknob as though in a hurry.

“We need to finish in here,” Carisi complained, exchanging a surprised look with Fin.

“Parker can finish this,” Olivia said.

Fin’s face fell. “Parker. Is gonna finish our interrogation.”

“Detective…” Olivia’s voice held a note of warning.

They shrugged and stood, moving toward the door. Laura walked in past Olivia, clutching her clipboard and standing with her shoulders hunched, as though uncomfortable. Carisi and Fin stood and moved toward the door. Fin gestured toward the table, strewn with soda cans and crumpled papers. 

“You can get this stuff for us, right, Laura?” He didn’t wait for an answer.

She stepped to the table as the door closed behind her. 

“I’m Laura Parker,” she said, holding out her hand to the suspect. “I’m one of the detectives here.”

He awkwardly touched her hand, but barely grasped it. She clasped his softly but definitely, holding it just long enough for him to register the feeling of her hand in his. “Yeah, I’ll just call you Stacy,” he sneered.

Laura blinked at him as she took the chair closest to him. “It’s… It’s Laura.”

He guffawed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, brother.”

“You’re Brian Cudahay, I know. Is it all right if I call you Brian?”

“Whatever.” 

She smiled as though he’d granted her a favor.

“Before we start, are you OK? Do you need anything?” Her demeanor was kind and interested.

“I could use a blow job,” he leered. 

She looked slightly uncomfortable and turned her eyes to the table. “Maybe later,” she muttered shyly. “Let’s do the paperwork first.” 

That threw him. She was supposed to have turned red and bit his head off. “Weren’t you supposed to clean this stuff up, _detective_?” He tried again to insult her.

She stood and began placidly picking up the mess from the table, tossing it in the trash. As intended, he watched her legs and backside as she moved around, deliberately giving him plenty of opportunity. 

“At some point those guys will figure out I can do more than clean up after them,” she remarked. 

Rafael, watching through the one-way glass, rolled his eyes. _This Cinderella act is never going to work. But those legs might._

“So, Brian, another piece of crucial police work they let me do is fill out these forms. Can I ask you some questions?” 

For the next twenty minutes, Laura wrote useless information on a form she’d quickly printed out before coming into the room. It was actually used for new NYPD employees to sign up for health insurance, but it gave her the opportunity to be fascinated by every detail of Brian Cudahay’s personal information, and begin to draw him out. Few people can resist talking about themselves to someone who appears to find them enthralling, and this guy was a frustrated virgin being played by a very experienced flirt who happened to be adorable. 

Barba could feel Cudahay thawing toward her, then beginning to melt. Cudahay didn’t even notice when she completely abandoned the charade of filling out the forms. Soon, he was telling her about his ant farm. _ An ant farm,_ Laura thought. _ If this guy wasn’t such a woman-hating piece of shit, he’d actually be kind of cute. _

Forty-five minutes in, Cudahay was on his fourth story in which he featured prominently in some heroic role, this time finding a way to repair the milkshake machine at the fast-food place where he worked. Laura hung on every word. Barba smirked as he watched, shaking his head. _Poor sucker never stood a chance. I feel for ya’, buddy._

“I think it’s showtime,” Olivia told him. He straightened his jacket and moved to the door. The rest of the team continued to watch Parker carefully weave her web around the clueless Incel. 

As Barba assertively threw the door open and strode into the room, Laura sucked in her breath and moved noticeably toward Cudahay. She stammered a bit before standing up so quickly she knocked her pen to the floor. As Barba had expected, she leaned over from the waist to pick it up, giving Cudahay the opportunity to experience her swingy skirt up close as it slid up her thighs. _Por Dios_, Barba thought. _She’s shameless_. 

“Oh… Mr. Barba… Are you…?”

“I’ll take it from here, Miss Parker,” he said, spreading his leather-bound folder on the table and sitting across from Cudahay in a position that took up as much space as possible. He didn’t look at her even when addressing her. 

She awkwardly sat down, muttering so quietly only Cudahay could hear, “It’s Detective Parker.”

Had the squad not known better, they would have joined Cudahay in believing that Barba was the biggest prick in the city and that Parker was terrified of him. 

“I’m A.D.A. Rafael Barba. I just need to ask you a couple of questions about your attacks on these women,” he arrogantly tossed a set of photographs across the table. 

“I didn’t attack anyone,” Cudahay began, puffing out his chest as he took in the new dynamics in the room.

“Normally, I’d be entranced, but I’m due in court. So let’s skip the fairy tales, hmmm?”

“Hey, man-“

Laura put a hand on Cudahay’s arm and looked up at him through her eyelashes as though trying to warn him, or protect him, or something. She was on his side.

“Mr. Barba, I-“

“Miss Parker, please. I don’t have time.”

“Sir, I’m, um… well into questioning the suspect. You really don’t need to stay.”

Barba gave her a look that she never wanted to see for real. Holy shit, but that man could scowl. 

“Are you suggesting that you can do my job better than I can?”

“Oh, no, Sir, it’s just that-“

“I’ll tell you what, dickwad,” Cudahay interjected, leaning across the table toward Barba. “Get lost. I don’t have to talk to you. I’m only talking to her.” 

“Her.” The single syllable dripped with condescension and appalled amusement, but it was the raised eyebrows coupled with the slightest upturn of his lips that had Laura biting her lip to keep from grinning. He inspected Cudahay as he would something foul he’d just discovered stuck to the bottom of his shoe. 

Cudahay seemed to think he’d won a point. He sat straighter in his chair and lifted his chin. Laura mirrored his posture, moving yet closer to him. It’s us against him, she silently signaled to her new protector, Brian.

Barba’s posture and expression as he pointedly closed his folder were half disappointment, half disbelief at the stupidity of some inferior people. It was a masterful performance that Laura thought had probably been perfected over years of doing the same thing to signal that some plea deal was too idiotic to even consider. 

“Very well,” he said quietly and with careful enunciation. “_Miss Parker_ can take your statement. I’m due in court.” 

Laura and Cudahay watched in silence as he swept from the room. As soon as the door closed, Cudahay turned to Laura. 

“Are you OK?” He was all solicitous concern. 

“I’m, um… I’m…” she faltered, her voice close to breaking.

Outside the room, the whole squad was chuckling.

“Are those actual tears?” Carisi asked with delight. 

Barba shook his head yet again. “That woman is not to be trusted.” 

“Y’all are pathetic,” Rollins smiled. 

Laura knew she had him when Cudahay handed her a crumpled tissue from the pocket of his jeans. She let him comfort her, clumsy and inept, while she leaned on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for being so understanding, Brian. I appreciate you being on my side. You must have a lot of girlfriends.”

“There it is,” Fin laughed outside the window.

“See, I woulda gone for the puppy dog eyes right there,” Rollins weighed in. “She loses a couple of style points on that one.”

“I feel bad for the guy. I kinda wanna go in there and rescue him.”

“Carisi, you are too soft hearted for this job,” Amanda told him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Actually, Laura,” Cudahay said, trying to find the courage to put his arm around her, “I don’t have a girlfriend. Women don’t really… like me.”

“I don’t believe that,” she responded coyly. 

“In fact, a couple of them have been real bi- witches about it.”

With that, the story began to unfold. For an hour, all Laura had to do was look at him with doe eyes and make sympathetic noises while Brian Cudahay confessed to four attacks on women: one more than the NYPD had even linked to him. 

The change in Cudahay when Fin came in to arrest him was blood-curdling. That little bitch had just confirmed everything he and his Incel buddies believed about whores using sex to get whatever they wanted and denying him his rightful share. The noxious, vindictive things he said to and about Parker were nothing new in that room, but Barba made a note to represent the People personally at Cudahay’s bail hearing. Best if he didn’t have the opportunity to go looking for her for a while.

Laura wasn’t gloating when she came out of the interrogation room. She was glad to have gotten the confessions. Cudahay deserved to go to prison for what he’d done to those women. But she wished this guy would have had the opportunity to go out and meet someone, rather than getting sucked into the self-fulfilling misery of the Incel websites. He could’ve been OK.

Rafael could guess what she was thinking. It was to her credit that she wasn’t taking a victory lap. 

“Hey, thanks,” she said to him. “You were amazing. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

And then she grinned and held out a fist. 

Rafael Barba had never fist bumped in his life. No one would ever have thought to suggest such a thing. Rafael Barba did things like shake hands and clink crystal. Yet here she was, grinning and waiting with her fist out. Could she really have that mistaken an impression of him? He didn’t think so. He thought she probably had quite an accurate impression of him. And she was laughing at him. He should have hated it.

He grinned back and bumped her fist.


	22. Proximity Alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba learns that the newest SVU Detective, OC Laura Parker, lives in the same building he does. Neither one is particularly happy about that, although Rafael is growing on Laura. Rafael prepares Laura to testify in a trial and learns her relationship with Peter Stone isn't what he thought.

Traffic that night was just beginning to creep again after the gridlock of rush hour, made worse by the angle of the sun blinding westbound drivers in the soggy evening air. Barba liked hot weather, but only when he was dressed for it. Just the walk from his garage had Rafael’s once-crisp dress shirt sodden with perspiration. Just up the street, Rafael noticed the pretty, rounded backside of a woman in short running tights, leaning over to stretch very nice legs. Although he appreciated the picture, he couldn’t believe anyone would willingly run through the sweltering city right now. As he got closer, the woman stood up to change her stretch, giving him the opportunity to appreciate her upper half. She wore a ratty-looking grey T-shirt that hung loosely. 

She was right in front of his building. He had to walk around her to get to the door. Being a lifelong New Yorker, he didn’t even think of catching her eye or saying hello, until she called his name in a surprised yelp.

“Mr. Barba!”

He turned. To his confusion, the woman was Detective Parker, hair pulled into a haphazard knot on top of her head and skin already showing a sheen of sweat, although she was just getting ready to run. Her T-shirt had a faded Northwestern University logo and was short enough to display a few inches of toned midsection above her black shorts. Her eyebrows pulled together and faint frown lines showed between them. 

“What are you… Do you live in this building?”

“I do,” he answered, wearing a similar expression.

“Huh,” she said. “So do I.” 

They didn’t speak for a few seconds, neither particularly wanting to spout one of the usual banal expressions of surprise going through their minds. All they could think of to say was their apartment numbers.

“10C,” Rafael said.

“8D,” she answered. 

The strange moment was broken when a tall, athletic man with shaggy black hair and startlingly blue eyes jogged up to them and greeted Laura. Rafael thought he looked like he should be pretending to man a sailboat in an advertisement for expensive cologne.

She stiffly introduced the man as her friend Jeff, leaving out the fact that she and Jeff knew one another from A.A. She explained to Jeff that she and Rafael worked together and had just discovered they lived in the same building. 

“Jeez,” Jeff said, “What are the chances of that? So, you ready?”

Laura sputtered a hasty goodbye to Barba, and she and Jeff headed down the street at a jog. 

“So what’s his story?” Jeff asked as they ran, avoiding the passersby on the sidewalk.

“I barely know him. He’s the Assistant District Attorney assigned to our unit. Squad seems to like him, and he’s really good at what he does.”

“He’s pretty. What’s he like?”

“Snarky.”

“Ooh, you like snarky. Is he single?”

“No idea.” 

“I guess you’ll find out, since you’re neighbors. That could be convenient…”

“It could also be a pain in the ass. I don’t think I like someone I work with living in the same building as me.”

“You don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

“Jeff, do I need to remind you you’re married?”

“Bradley would agree with me. He has good taste.”

Rafael scowled at nothing as he rode the elevator up to the tenth floor. He wasn’t happy about what had just happened. For one thing, he liked his privacy. He didn’t want someone he worked with keeping tabs on him. For another, it meant that, of the thousands of apartment buildings on this island, that damn Peter Stone had moved into his. And finally, he really wished he hadn’t seen Parker in that outfit. He didn’t need that in his head every time he saw her at work. 

Laura let herself into the building after her run and started up the stairs. She thought again about living in the same building with Rafael Barba, and wondered whether they would ever run into one another there. Probably. There weren’t that many apartments in the building. She thought about what Jeff had said. Barba was definitely hot. That was one of the first things she’d noticed about him. Now, a few weeks later, she often found herself hoping he would give her one of those smirky, smouldery looks of his, and was guilty of more than a little surreptitious admiration of his physique in his gorgeous suits. But for some reason, it seemed odd to think of Barba as someone to date. Even with Olivia Benson, he had a certain barrier that discouraged people from getting overly familiar.

She wondered what that was about, because it was obvious in everything about him that he was a passionate man. That made her wonder what it would be like to be able to get around that barrier and truly know him. As she let herself into her apartment and started the shower, she let her thoughts drift to what he would be like as a lover. He might be so guarded because he was one of those deeply romantic men who, when they fell in love, fell hard. Maybe he was all ardent caresses and whispered endearments – in Spanish, of course – or maybe he got all rough and growly and devouring. Maybe both. Probably both. OK, so maybe it wasn’t so odd to think of him as someone to date. It was certainly easy to think of him as someone to fuck.

Under the steamy shower, turning to more realistic thoughts, Laura considered whether being neighbors meant that she and Barba might become something like friends. It wasn’t out of the question. After a stumble at the beginning, he did seem to be growing on her. Carisi had been right; Barba was an acquired taste. These days, Laura actually liked him. She always appreciated anyone that intelligent and articulate, and she had a definite affinity for snarky people.

After her shower, Laura pulled on a plain grey tank dress and went to her living room to pick up her computer, intending to Skype with her family in Chicago. She looked around her apartment. She hadn’t brought much with her. She’d sold her car and all her furniture in Chicago, so right now, her apartment was pretty sparsely furnished. The only things in her living room at the moment were her new couch, her keyboard and stool, and her guitar. 

But she’d splurged on new clothes. It was important to her to look good for her new job. Voight’s unit had worn jeans and T-shirts pretty much exclusively, because that’s how Voight dressed. SUV had a stricter dress code. She’d decided to go with quality over quantity, and been careful what she bought. So now she had only two choices: new, carefully-chosen work clothes or old, scruffy, comfy sweats and hanging-out clothes. Nothing in between. 

She plopped onto the couch and checked her email. There was a message from Avi ben Yaakov with frustrating news. Avi was Laura’s new krav maga instructor, a native Israeli in his fifties who had practiced the art since his teen years, and perfected it while doing his compulsory service in the Israeli army. He’d seen combat and was very serious about everything having to do with his training of his students. The timing of Laura’s move had been poor; she’d felt like she was close to being ready to test for her blue belt, but had to leave her gym in Chicago before she could do it. Now, she was starting at a new gym where she had yet to prove to her instructor that she was ready.

Laura grinned as she thought about the afternoon when she and her former instructor and lover, Eric Hernandez, had lain naked on the floor of his apartment researching gyms in Manhattan where Laura could continue her training. On their stomachs with Eric’s laptop before them, they’d found Avi ben Yaakov fairly quickly because of the amount of favorable information about him online. Avi had insisted on speaking to Eric about her skill and work ethic, and would not agree to consider taking her on as a student until he had met and tested her. Laura was entirely intimidated. She tried to get Eric to help her find a less demanding instructor, but Eric had asked her to trust him to know what kind of instructor she needed. She’d trusted Eric, but the jury was still out on Avi. Still, it seemed to speak well of Avi that Laura found herself working as hard as she could, every class and every lesson, hoping to get his approval. But for Avi, the jury was apparently still out on Laura, too.

A week later, Barba had his first opportunity to see what Liv’s new detective would be like as a witness. They met in the courtroom where the trial would be held, which he preferred when he could make it happen, so that he could assess how the witness would appear to the jury. The meeting was necessarily scheduled in the evening when court wasn’t in session. When they met in the hallway, he was surprised to see that Detective Parker had blots and smears of blood on the light linen jacket she wore, as well as on the silky tank top beneath. She had a bruise on one cheek surrounding a small cut.

“Bloodstains. Bold fashion statement. It’s a way to go, but it might be a little much for a jury.”

One corner of her lips turned up as they began to walk toward the courtroom. “Don’t worry, she was bleeding when we got there.”

“And this?” He indicated her cheek. 

“The boyfriend. He doesn’t like cops.” Noting the look on his face, she added, “I didn’t make him bleed, either.” 

“Are you aware that not every detective I work with has to begin conversations with ‘I can explain?’” 

She chuckled. “Can I bill the city for dry cleaning?”

“No.” He opened the door for her and motioned her in. 

Laura was curious to see how Barba would conduct his witness preparation. During her years in Chicago, she’d been prepped by a few attorneys, each of whom had his or her own style. This was also the first time she would be spending any time one-on-one with him, and she wondered about that, too. 

He told her to sit in the witness box as he removed his coat and vest, loosening his tie even further than it had already been. She was mesmerized by his hands as he rolled up his shirtsleeves. As much as she appreciated his style, there really was something about seeing him remove some of that sartorial armor that made his handsome features even harder to ignore. _Head in the game, Parker. _

“Tell me about your experience testifying in court,” he asked, spreading some papers into small piles on the table before him.

“Does moot court count?”

He looked up, surprised. “Did you go to law school?”

“I had a boyfriend who did.”

_Had?_

“Well, it doesn’t count.”

She chuffed a short laugh. “OK. I probably testified at thirty trials in my uniform days, and six or seven when I was with Intelligence. The last time was, say, three months ago.” 

“Tell me about the cases. I want to know what kinds of things you’ve testified about.”

Laura had observed Barba in court on a few occasions since she’d been with SVU, and was interested to see that he was all business now. Perhaps not in full Prosecutor mode, but definitely serious and on a mission. 

She briefly sketched a summary of the trials at which she’d testified, beginning with traffic court, car accidents, and minor crimes, and working up to the Intelligence cases. 

“Favorite trial?”

“The naked guy. It’s January in Chicago, below zero, and he’s wearing nothing but handcuffs. Not even shoes. He wouldn’t let me put a blanket over him because he said it interfered with the flow of The Force.”

No reaction. He was looking at her, clearly hearing her, but was deeply immersed in his own trial planning. It was impressive. That laser focus explained a lot of the success she’d heard about.

“Most difficult trial?”

She had to think about that for a minute. “A shootout at a factory.”

“Good. Answer only the question you’re asked. If I want more, I’ll ask for it. If Buchanan wants more, make him ask for it. Why was that your most difficult trial?”

“It was a huge building that was almost all one room, where they drop forge tools. So there were machines everywhere. It was dark, and everyone had flashlights, which made the light confusing, and there were a lot of people in there but you couldn’t see ‘em. There were seven of us and then a bunch of bad guys in –“

“Suspects. Or offenders. Not ‘bad guys’.”

“A bunch of suspects, who scattered as soon as we hit the door. There were a million places to hide, so we had no choice but to try to flush them out. There was a firefight, and I was using an M4, which I’d never used in the field before-”

“The jury doesn’t know what an M4 is.”

“Big-ass gun.”

There it was, the look of amused disapproval.

“I’m not planning to say ‘big-ass’ in court.”

“Good to know. You’re telling me why the situation was difficult. Tell me why testifying about it was difficult.”

“Because I didn’t really know what happened. I had a confused series of images in my head, and I knew what I’d been thinking, but… There was just too much happening too fast. CSU mapped every shot they could, and I knew how many I’d fired, but even then I couldn’t be sure which ones were mine.”

“Good. Admit when you don’t know something. Don’t guess. All right. Now let’s talk about your testimony in this trial.”

For the next hour, Barba asked questions and Parker answered them. He took her through his direct examination, correcting her errors and explaining where particular facts were especially important. Then he switched roles, and asked the questions she could expect from the defense attorney on cross. 

He was much more critical and demanding here. It was exhausting and, at times, frustrating. 

“Where was the gun?”

“On the floor under the bed.”

“No. It was sticking out from under the bed.”

“That’s what I said.”

“That’s not what you said. If it was under the bed, it wasn’t in plain sight, was it? Which means you couldn’t take it without a search warrant, which you didn’t have. Now, where was the gun?”

“Sticking out from under the bed. I could see the handle and part of the trigger guard.”

“Better.”

At last, he’d taken her through all the testimony he expected her to have to give. He began to gather up his papers and note pad, putting them back into his briefcase.

“Don’t be nervous,” he told her as she crossed from the witness stand to the gate into the seating area. 

She didn’t know quite how to respond to that. “I wasn’t. Before. It’s not my first rodeo. But after this…”

“Look,” he said, picking up his jacket and vest and following her to the door. “Bottom line, just tell the truth and leave the rest to me.”

“You couldn’t have just said that an hour and a half ago? I could be home eating pizza.”

He didn’t respond for a few moments as she passed through the door he held open and stepped to her side to walk down the now dimly-lit hallway. “About that.”

She looked up at him to see he was not exactly frowning, but clearly a little uncomfortable. Suddenly, she was, too. She felt embarrassed, like she’d done something wrong or foolish. Words came tumbling out in a rush to smooth the situation.

“I know. I feel like I should apologize for moving into your building. I’d feel weird about it if I were you. I _do_ feel weird about it. I guess I’m used to not knowing my neighbors. Makes me feel like I have to behave now.” 

“Actually, all I was going to say is that I’m on my way there now, and offer you a ride.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m interested in what misbehavior is now off the table.”

She was too flummoxed to answer. 

Somehow she managed to recover enough to accept a ride home once they were outside. They walked down the street, Laura feeling grateful for the orange-tinged light of the streetlamps, which hopefully hid her blush. _Smooth. Real smooth._

“Did you go to Northwestern?” He asked suddenly.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Your shirt. The other day.”

“Oh. Yeah. I have a Bachelor’s in Nursing.”

“Nursing?”

“Long story.”

“Were you a nurse?”

“Yeah. ER nurse in Chicago.”

“Nurse, and now a cop. You don’t go for the easy jobs.”

“I guess not. There’s just something about being a first responder. There’s nowhere else in the world with that kind of energy. And I like being one of the good guys.”

“As opposed to, say… lawyers.”

“Nope. You’re the good guys, too. Prosecutors. Guys like John Buchanan… not so much. I heard you’re Harvard Law.”

“Mmm-hmm. Why do you speak Spanish?”

She didn’t miss the abrupt change in topic, but thought better of mentioning it. She wondered what that was about. 

“Are you saying I actually speak Spanish?”

His stomach gave a little flip. He really wished her teasing him didn’t do that to him. “I’m feeling generous.”

“Nice,” she laughed.

“So why?”

“Because I took Spanish class in junior high, and I fell in love with it. I couldn’t learn fast enough. I did a summer in Madrid in high school, and I just… The language is so beautiful. And I like being able to talk to people who are in trouble and don’t speak English.”

“Hmmm.”

As they reached the parking garage, Barba indicated a stairway and they turned into it, heading to the first level below the street. Barba’s car, a silver-blue Audi, was parked not far down the row.

“Wow. Celebrity parking,” Laura noted.

“I’m kind of a big deal.”

Laura noticed that, even though he unlocked the doors with a key fob, he still walked to the passenger door and opened it for her. Now it was her turn to experience a stomach flip. _Why was that so bloody sexy? All he did was open a door. Because he’s a gentleman, and that’s sexy._

The car wasn’t very big. When they’d buckled in and Barba was backing the car out of the stall, a whiff of breeze through Barba’s open window blew a faint scent of something warm, and musky, and spicy toward Laura. _Holy shit, he smells good._

“Can I ask you a question? And will you give me an honest answer?”

He stole a quick look at her. “No, your accent’s not really horrific. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She smiled. “How’d you know what I was going to ask?” 

“Because it was a shitty thing I said, and you seem to like to call me out when I say shitty things.”

“Hmm. I feel kind of like a bitch now, but I also appreciate the fact that I’m keeping you on your toes. I’ll have to think about that.”

As he turned the car into the street, she saw the most adorable half-smile touch his lips. _Oh, fuck. This is like the tenth time he’s made me wet and he’s not even trying. I am in serious trouble here._

He wanted to find a casual way to ask about her comment that she “had” a boyfriend in law school. That had to be Stone, right? Did she mean to use the past tense there? But then why would they have moved out from Chicago together? He wished he wasn’t even thinking about this. He needed her to be unavailable, and if she was, then what difference did it make if she was seeing a _rabo_[1] like Stone? He told himself he just wanted to know whether he would be running into Stone in his building. 

“So, uh… what do you think of the building? Do you like it?”

“Of course I do. What’s not to like? I don’t have any furniture yet, or not much anyway, so it’s a little like camping for the moment. But I’ll get there. And I work crazy hours, like you, so… I’m happy.”

I. Not we. How obvious would it be if he asked-

“Do you live alone?”

“Yep. You?”

“Yes.” 

Hmmm. Curiouser and curiouser. 

“And the answer to your next question is, ‘I can’t.’”

“What’s my next question?”

“How can I afford to live there on a cop’s salary. I can’t. But my overprotective father can’t sleep unless I live in a secure building, so he bought the apartment and I rent it from him.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that.”

She smiled at him. “Sure you were. Maybe not out loud…”

She really needed to quit smiling at him. Especially now that she lived alone. Two floors below him.

[1] dick


	23. Say Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba somehow traps himself into building an Ikea cabinet for OC Laura Parker, and they bond over dinner.

As he waited for the elevator, Barba saw Laura Parker enter the apartment building. This was a new experience; they had not run into one another here since they’d learned they both lived in this building. Since there was nobody else on the elevator, he held it for her.

A little blinded by the difference between the late afternoon sun and the dim lobby of the building, she didn’t see him holding the elevator until she was close.

“Hey, thanks,” she greeted him, mentally kicking herself for sounding so stupidly cheerful. 

As they rode up toward their floors, she turned to him suddenly and asked, “Would you happen to have a socket wrench?”

“Socket wrench,” he repeated, a little thrown by the question. 

“Ikea cabinet. I’ve already cried twice.”

Barba laughed, although he didn’t see the connection between a socket wrench and building anything from Ikea. He was shocked to hear his own voice say, “I have a socket wrench. I’ll bring it by.” _ I’ll do what? Where had that come from?_

“8D.” 

“I remember.”

Half an hour later, Laura heard him knock. It was disorienting to think that A.D.A. Barba could be standing outside her apartment door but, as she looked through the peephole, there he was, socket set in hand. Despite her nervousness, she tried to appear relaxed and welcoming as she opened the door. Her smile faltered a little when she saw that he was wearing a soft-looking black T-shirt and black jeans. He had a noticeable five O’clock shadow that added to the overall sexily casual picture. He looked so good she was momentarily unable to speak.

“Socket wrench,” he said, holding the metal box out to her. 

“Thanks.” She took it from him. “Do you, um… want to come in?”

“And build your cabinet for you? No, thanks.” Did she actually look disappointed? He realized the idea of disappointing her caused a pang in his heart. _Advertencia. Peligro._[1]

Again he had the disconcerting experience of hearing his voice saying something his brain had not planned. “But I’d be willing to watch and kibbitz.”

“You can watch. No kibbitzing.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Then I can’t promise I won’t make you build the cabinet.”

Barba smiled crookedly, then said, “We gonna negotiate this in the hallway?”

Laura stepped aside so he could enter. As he stepped by her, he looked down at her jeans, which had a large hole in the right knee, and a smaller one on the left. The jeans were old Levi’s, the type made of real, thick denim, and were well broken in. The seams were nearly white, and the holes were obviously from wear, rather than part of the design of the jeans. Something about the way the jeans fit, and the tantalizing glimpse of her legs through the holes was disturbing to Barba. The strip of skin that kept appearing between the waistband of her jeans and her fitted yellow T-shirt didn’t help. 

“Rabid wolverines?” He asked, grinning down at the holes in her jeans.

“Funny,” she answered drily.

Her apartment still had boxes here and there, filled with books and other things she didn’t have a place to store yet. As she’d said, there wasn’t much furniture, just a soft, comfortable-looking blue couch. He was interested in the keyboard and guitar in a corner.

“You play?”

“About as well as I speak Spanish,” she answered, smirking. 

He rolled his eyes. So she wasn’t done teasing him about that.

A long, torn cardboard box had been tossed into a corner, and piles of wooden planks sat in the center of the room. The cabinet hardware was spread haphazardly, but at least each piece was visible. The only two pieces of the cabinet hooked together so far were obviously incorrectly joined and sitting crookedly on the floor. Barba looked at Laura with an eyebrow cocked questioningly. 

“What?” Laura asked, holding up the instruction booklet. “The instructions are in Swedish!”

Rafael took it from her. “The instructions are pictures.”

“Well, the pictures are in Swedish.”

“Detective.” Rafael said, using his cross-examination voice. “Did you intentionally invite me down to your apartment on a pretext to get me to build your cabinet for you?”

“No,” she said.

He simply looked at her.

“I didn’t! I just asked you for a socket wrench.”

“Which, by the way, would be of no use in building this cabinet.”

“Yes, it will. There’s these little metal things and you have to twist them in.”

“With a wrench. Which comes with the cabinet.”

“So that’s what the weird-shaped holes are for. I wondered about that.”

His expressionless stare was both amusing and sexy. How did he manage that?

“OK, fine, so I suck at Ikea! You found out my shameful secret. Feel free to mock me for the next 3 to 5 years.”

“I intend to,” he smirked. The pleased, teasing expression in his eyes caused her to catch her breath for the second time in less than five minutes.

When she could speak, her voice was serious. “Listen. I admit I’m pathetic at this stuff,” she gestured at the floor. “But if I was going to ask you to help me, I’d have asked you straight up. I’m not here for games like that.”

He just shrugged. “OK. Tell you what. You buy dinner, I’ll help with this masterpiece here. Deal?” _¿Por qué de repente no tengo control sobre lo que digo? Podría necesitar un médico._[2]

Laura looked skeptical. “Doesn’t that make me guilty of…”

“No. I retract the accusation. You didn’t lure me here to build your cabinet, and now I’m offering to do it for… souvlaki. Do we have a deal?”

”We have a deal.” The smile she gave him was worth building several pieces of furniture. As she pulled menus from a drawer to order dinner, he began to organize the materials for the cabinet. He looked over at her as she sifted through the handful of menus, again noticing the way her simple jeans and T-shirt accentuated her lithe, athletic frame.

Barba knelt on the floor and began to separate the pieces Laura had put together. While his back was turned, Laura took the opportunity to appreciate the fit of his jeans. Who knew Barba even owned jeans? She found the menu for a nearby Greek restaurant and brought it to the couch where she read it to him and, for the next five minutes, they negotiated dinner. As Laura called in their order, she tried to absorb the fact that Rafael Barba was in her living room building an Ikea cabinet, and he had asked her to have dinner with him. Hadn’t he? Did that count as asking her to have dinner with him? _What the hell. I’m not a kid. Why am I actually nervous right now?_

Once dinner was ordered, she went over to sit next to him on the floor. “So, how is this gonna work?”

He glanced at her before picking up two pieces of the cabinet and lying them side by side. “If I need any help, I’ll let you know.”

“So, what? I just watch you build a cabinet?”

“Don’t take this personally, Detective, but I think that’s best for everyone.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “So what do I do?”

“Talk to me. Tell me how an ER nurse in Chicago becomes a cop in New York. You said it was a long story, and we appear to have some time. Hand me that round thing over there.”

“Oh, boy. Well, I, uh… I’m a recovering alcoholic. The ‘drive your life off a cliff and keep your foot on the gas’ kind.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Bring me that piece over there. So… go on.”

Barba worked on the cabinet while Laura gave him the short version of her story. The food arrived just as she was finishing, at which point Laura remembered that she didn’t have a table. Of all the surprising things about that evening, the best was learning that Rafael Barba, urbane and eternally impeccable attorney, was perfectly happy eating dinner on the floor.

Looking for a topic of conversation as they sorted through the bags and Styrofoam containers, Laura said, “I heard a story about you winning a case by letting a guy choke you with a belt.”

He snorted. “That was my first SVU case, as a matter of fact.” He told her about the crime, and the trial, and how he had ended up being desperate enough to resort to such a longshot tactic. Not surprisingly for a man who told stories to juries for a living, he was a particularly entertaining storyteller.

“Where did you hear that story?” 

“A friend of mine. You’ve actually met him, he works in your office. Peter Stone?”

Friend?

“Yes, I met him. Didn’t you both just come from Chicago?”

“We did. Together, as a matter of fact. We’re old friends.”

_Old friends._ Barba wanted to ask about a hundred questions, but didn’t know how to do that without appearing… interested. He was saved by Laura’s curiosity. 

Finishing a bite of lamb, she said, “I feel like that Incel we questioned last week, telling you boring stories about me. What about you?”

“Tell you boring stories about me?” He grinned.

“I’d rather hear interesting ones, but if that’s the best you can do…”

For the rest of the time they ate dinner, Barba talked about growing up in the Bronx, telling sweet, funny stories about his childhood. Most of them were charmingly self-deprecating, like the ones about being a Catholic schoolboy menaced by bullies from the public school down the street, and his disastrous first year in Little League. 

For the rest of the evening, they talked about nothing while Barba put the cabinet together, frequently asking Laura to hand him things or hold things. The odd situation started to feel normal. Comfortable. Pleasant. Conversation was easy and lively, with Barba’s quick wit and tendency to purposely provoke her keeping Laura laughing and looking for ways to tease back. 

Were they… flirting with eachother? Was that what was happening? Laura was enchanted with him, she knew that. He was even better looking up close, and somehow the early experience of feeling beneath Barba’s notice made it all the more special that he’d chosen to spend time alone with her. And she really liked him. Whether or not he might be interested – and with each passing moment, she hoped more that he might be – she really enjoyed hanging out with him. 

Barba was having very similar thoughts. In his case, however, the attraction was nowhere near as welcome. Barba didn’t date. That was that. He liked women as much as the next guy, but he liked them from afar. The price of getting involved, of opening his heart and making himself vulnerable, was just too high. Besides, he didn’t even know if he could have a relationship anymore. Maybe he had just lost that ability. He hoped so. _But then what are you doing in this apartment letting yourself be captivated by this woman?_

Together, they stood up the finished cabinet and wrestled it to its place. Laura looked a little dazzled. “You never even looked at the pictures.”

“I didn’t need to. It’s obvious how this stuff goes together.”

“Not to me.”

“_Claro._”[3]

“You’re not gonna go all superior on me now, are you, Harvard?”

“About this? Yes.” That smirk again. There was an eye twinkle now, too. Laura felt lightheaded which, as a nurse, she understood resulted from all the blood in her body rushing south. 

Barba couldn’t understand how someone who was clearly intelligent and capable could have such a complete inability to conceptualize how build-it-yourself furniture goes together, even with instructions. He found it fascinating and endearing, like a lot of things about her. _Cállate, Barba. No esta pasando._[4]

As Laura began to clean up the bits of cardboard and torn little plastic bags from the floor, Barba prepared to leave. It was actually something of a relief to him. He needed to be alone, have a drink, and regain his senses.

“I need to get going,” he said, groaning and stretching out the kinks in his muscles from sitting on the floor for three hours. _“Feliz noche_,[5] Detective.”

“Hey, thank you. Really. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Neither do I. From a purely scientific point of view, it would’ve been fascinating to find out.”

She smiled the same small, adorable smile and rolled her eyes the same way she’d done all night when he’d made fun of her. It was definitely time for him to go.

“’Night. And thanks again. I’ll… see you at work, I guess.” 

“Thanks for dinner. _Que tengas buena noche._”[6]

As the door closed between them, both Barba and Laura wore thoughtful expressions and smiles that were a little bit silly. Both of them had thoroughly enjoyed the evening. Laura was happily excited about what might happen next. Rafael wasn’t.

[1] Warning. Danger.

[2] Why do I suddenly have no control over what I say? I may need a doctor.

[3] Clearly.

[4] Shut up, Barba. It’s not happening.

[5] Good night

[6] Have a good night.


	24. Just My Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fin Tutuola and his partner, OC Laura Parker, arrest and question a suspect. Rafael Barba's attitude toward her after their dinner together completely disappoints Laura. She goes to see Peter Stone for some sexual healing.

This was definitely not the smartest hump they’d ever chased. That’s why Fin figured the guy would try to hide in the alley on the next block, a one-block long alley with a finite number of hiding places. Not a choice Fin would make, but he thought it was just about right for this loser. So he ran left and shouted for Parker to go right. With a little luck, Fin would turn out to be right and circling the block to cover both ends of the alley would nail the perp. 

Fin was right.

He reached his end of the alley just in time to see Parker appear at the other end, surprising the idiot in the act of trying to climb into a dumpster. Parker ran to him, grabbed his leg, and pulled with all her weight. Emitting a high shriek that hurt Fin’s ears, the guy fell hard onto the filthy pavement. He had good reflexes, though. He was up almost as soon as he hit the ground, brandishing a knife at Parker.

She tilted her head, curled her lip, and launched a nimble kick that knocked the knife from his hand. Before it hit the ground, she was rushing him, backing him up. However, she only got a few steps before he pulled a gun from his waistband, where it had been hidden under his jacket. Laura skidded to a stop in a way that Fin would’ve found funny in a less dangerous situation. 

Panting, she slowly leaned over and picked up the knife she’d kicked from his hand. 

The guy sneered and gave an ugly laugh through his gulps for air. “Well, well. Looks like you brought a knife to a gun fight.”

“I brought a gun, too,” she gasped. 

“Yeah? I ain’t see no gun.”

“That’s because it’s behind you.”

That was when Fin put the muzzle of his weapon against the back of the guy’s head. “You wanna hand me that piece. Do it nice and easy, genius.” 

“Why do they always have to run?” Laura asked, still breathless. “They just end up sweaty in their mug shots.”

*********

Laura was intensely curious about what would happen when she and Barba saw each other again. How would he act toward her? Would he pretend nothing had happened and act just like he always did? Would he be friendlier and more familiar? She had to admit, she’d been thinking about him pretty much nonstop since they spent the evening together. But that had been days ago now. There hadn’t been a reason for him to come to the station house, or for her to go to his office, and they hadn’t run into each other at their apartment building. 

The anticipation was tough on Laura; she was impatient and didn’t like waiting around for something else to happen. But she needed to see how he would react to her when they saw each other again before she could consider her next move. She was pretty sure there would be a next move, though. She hadn’t been this excited about a man in a very long time.

She knew she would see him today. Having caught the suspect in three burglaries, the last one also involving a rape, Fin and Laura were conducting an interrogation that had a good chance of being used at a trial. Laura knew Barba would show up to get a sense of the suspect, and probably point out areas that needed further questioning. 

Fin and Laura went into the box to begin questioning the suspect. Getting answers out of him wasn’t quite as easy as catching him had been. He didn’t need to be smart to know how to stonewall. For the next four hours, Fin and Laura tried without success to get him to confess to the burglaries and rape he had committed, or at least admit enough to get himself indicted. 

Finally, in the fifth hour, he started to get tired and whiny. Whatever drugs he had in his system were wearing off. 

“Tony, Tony, Tony. We got your dumb ass in two of those apartments cuz you touched everything. Lady downstairs puts you at the third, and you and I both know DNA’s gonna put you in the girl you raped, too. Let’s cut the crap so we can order a pizza.”

“Screw you.”

“Where’s the stuff you stole? You’re pretty fast, I’ll give you that, but even you didn’t have time to fence everything before my partner pulled you out of a dumpster.”

“She stole my knife, too.”

“Boo fuckin’ hoo,” Fin mocked, slapping him on the back of the head. “Man up!”

“I’m starvin’, man. This ain’t legal. You can’t starve me to make me confess.”

“Tell you what, Tony,” Laura tried. “Detective Tutuola here, he can go a long time without eating. I’ll bet you he isn’t even hungry. He can question you for hours yet. And me, I can leave and go out and get a burger any time I want, leave you here with him. So, you know, that puts you pretty much in charge of when – or if – you get to eat tonight.” 

“A burger?” Fin grimaced. “I can’t believe you eat that stuff. Gonna get E. Coli, man, maybe mad cow disease. If you gotta eat red meat, a thick, juicy steak is what you want.”

“Ooh, with a baked potato. Tall, frosted glass of a good microbrew.”

“Now you’re talkin’. But I’m in the mood for something a little more interesting, like maybe some teriyaki, with those noodles. You know, the real tasty ones with that spicy plum sauce.”

“And gyoza. Those fried dumplings with the meat and vegetables inside? I love those.” 

For the next five minutes, Fin and Laura ignored Tony while they talked about all kinds of food, surreptitiously gauging his reactions so they could focus on foods he was hungry for. 

“So are we gonna just sit here talking about food, or are we gonna get to eat some before I die of starvation?” Tony finally whined. 

“I told you. That depends on you. Tell us where the stuff you stole is, and I’ll even let you decide what we order. Ooh – “ Laura slapped the table and spoke rapidly. “Tandoori chicken and nan. You ever go to that Gateway to the East place on Church Street? They have this shrimp coconut curry that you’ll dream about after. And for dessert they have the best kulfi; you know, that ice cream with nuts and pistachios…”

Laura and Fin turned to Tony. “So, Tony? You wanna eat, or not?” Fin asked. 

“Yeah, man, I’m starving , but I ain’t telling you where I hid the stuff. It’s safe, where I can watch over it. You’ll never find it.”

“Well, you’re not watching over it right now, are you?” Laura asked. “How do you know it’s safe?” 

“Because there’s other people there all the time. They can look right at it, and they’re not gonna see it.” 

Laura cut her eyes at the door, expecting someone to knock or come in any moment to tell them they had enough for a warrant. There was only one place Tony could be talking about. But no one entered and no knock came on the window. 

“About time, Tony. Now that we know where it is, we can have dinner.”

“Whadda ya mean? I didn’t tell you.”

“Sure you did. It’s at the café you work at. ‘People there all the time’? That’s what you meant, the people who work at the café.”

Tony skipped a beat. “N-No it isn’t.”

Fin and Laura shared a look. Laura wondered if something had happened to distract whoever was currently watching the interrogation. 

She decided to find out. “Sure it is. I’ll go get some menus so we can decide what to eat. You give Detective Tutuola the details.”

She’d been wrong. Barba was standing outside the window, listening. 

“Hi,” she said, smiling. “How long have you been listening?”

“Tell me about this guy,” he responded, his features expressionless.

The first sign that Laura was going to be disappointed in Barba’s reaction to her was his return to barely acknowledging her presence. He looked at her, listened to what she said, and even responded to her; he had no choice, she was the arresting officer. But there was absolutely nothing to suggest that he had ever even met her before. It was disheartening after looking forward to seeing him again, but she told herself he was simply in prosecutor mode and setting a professional tone between them at work. That would be crucial if they dated. 

After advising Barba about the case and answering his questions, she said, “So what are we waiting for? The stuff’s in the café he works at.”

“He didn’t say that.”

“Of course he did. He said – “

“I heard what he said, Detective, and you may think you can read his mind, but I guarantee you a judge won’t. We don’t have enough.”

For a moment, green eyes met brown in a silent contest of wills. It was a short moment. Laura had no illusions about who made the decisions in this situation, and she knew he wasn’t going to budge until he thought he had enough evidence to convince a judge to sign a search warrant. She rolled her eyes, blew out her breath, and headed to the break room where she grabbed a handful of menus. 

She shot Barba an annoyed look as she let herself back into the interrogation room. The look on his face caused her to miss a step. 

“And you need to feed him. If he told us anything right now, it’d be useless. The defense would say it was coerced, and they’d be right. Do you really not know that?”

Laura felt like Barba had slapped her. The cold, expressionless way he was looking at her and the contempt in his voice were actually painful. She had told him that they’d chased Tony from a diner immediately after he had lunch. He couldn’t be that hungry; he was only whining and coming down off his drugs. Barba didn’t really think she was that stupid or inexperienced, did he? 

“Uh… right. We’ll do that now.”

Two hours and three cheesburgers later, Tony had still told them nothing more specific about the location of the stolen items. This time, both Fin and Laura left the box to talk to Barba. 

“C’mon, man, he’s told us all he’s gonna.” Fin got in Barba’s face. This interrogation had been going on for seven hours. Even he was getting tired and cranky. “And it’s enough. We know the stuff’s at the café.”

“You don’t, actually. You know enough to suspect that’s where it is. But like I told your partner, that’s not enough for a warrant.” 

_‘Your partner’? Really? He won’t even say my name?_ That hurt. Laura felt deflated and sad. And stupid. Apparently, she’d wildly misread him.

Fin huffed in irritation. “What more do you need? A map with a big X on it?”

“That’d be ideal, yes. Get me that, and I’ll get you your warrant.”

That did it. 

“I guess that’s supposed to be funny,” Laura snapped. “You want a map? Hold my beer.”

Storming into the interrogation room and slamming the door before Fin could enter, Laura took a pad of paper from the other end of the table and smashed it down in front of the suspect.

“All right, here’s the deal, Tony. I got a headache caused by you and a pinhead D.A. who wants a fucking map to the stuff you stole. A map, you believe that shit? So you’re gonna draw me one. You know why? Because if you don’t, you’re gonna have to deal with me all up in your shit until you do. And you don’t want that. Trust. Now start drawing.”

For the next half hour, Laura alternately browbeat and sweet-talked him, one minute screaming in his face and the next promising all kinds of things until, finally, he actually drew her a map of the café, complete with an X at the location of the stolen goods in a box in the freezer.

While Fin arrested Tony, Laura silently handed Barba a copy of the map with a sickeningly sweet fake smile.

“Thank you, Detective” he said, with similarly fake good cheer.

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She didn’t trust anything that might come out of her mouth.

That night, she spent hours at the gym practicing vicious strikes and kicks. Avi was impressed.

********

Laura felt like a prize idiot. Why would a guy like Rafael Barba be interested in a geek from Illinois who didn’t know an Allen wrench from a toilet plunger? She imagined the chic, sophisticated, exotic and cultured women he must be attracted to, and what he must see when he looked at her. A piece of soggy white bread that looked like a garden gnome and thought she could hold her own with someone like him. She wanted to crawl under the station house and cry for a year. The disappointment and humiliation she now felt were in direct proportion to her excitement when she’d thought… she couldn’t even consider what she’d thought. It was too mortifying.

**Laura:**  
RU planning to watch the game tonight?

**Peter:**  
Meeting some people to watch at a bar. Come with us.

**Laura:**  
Thanks. Not in the mood for a crowd tho. Have fun!

**Peter:**  
U OK?

**Laura:**  
Fine Thx

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed and Peter’s name and grinning picture appeared on the screen. She answered, smiling already.

“’Fine, thanks?’ You’re not OK.”

“No, I am. I just… got my feelings hurt a little bit. I’m being a baby. I’ll be fine.”

“Who do I need to kill?”

“Nobody important. I just thought it would be nice to see you, hang out with somebody who likes me.”

“I like you. Meet me at my place as soon as you get off work. Bring snacks. There’s nothing to eat in my apartment.”

“But you have plans.”

“Yeah, with you. Oh, I’m getting a text; I think my jury’s back. See you tonight.”

“Jury? You’re not even at trial right now – “

Click. 

Laura felt better already. Screw Barba, with his moods. With rare exceptions, Peter had three moods: hungry, horny, and happy. You knew exactly where you stood with Peter. And just because she’d gotten her feelings hurt, he’d dumped his plans without hesitation to be with her. _ If I was being murdered in front of him, the most Barba would probably do is dial 911 on his way to his next appointment. Barba’s an ass. Peter’s the greatest guy on this or any other planet. _

*****

Carmen thought she had seen all of Mr. Barba’s moods, but this was a new one. He was alternately angry, thoughtful, and what she could only interpret as sad. And he couldn’t concentrate. He spent long periods staring out the window, kept asking her the same questions, and he was taking forever to draft a response brief Carmen could have written herself in half an hour. Finally, she decided that, if she was going to get home before it was time to come back to work, she was going to have to do something. She made him give her what he had written so far, which wasn’t even close to his usual work, and sent him home. Of course, he didn’t realize that’s what she’d done – he wasn’t supposed to. Carmen had moves so smooth, sometimes he didn’t realize she’d even been there. 

*****

While the Cubs fought valiantly to come back from a 4-1 deficit, Peter lay on his side on his couch with Laura sitting on the floor in front of him. She hadn’t gone home after leaving the station house, instead letting herself into his apartment and changing into one of his T-shirts and a pair of shorts with a drawstring so she could cinch them around her waist. He wondered idly how many baseball games they’d watched in these exact positions. He also wondered what was going on with her. She wasn’t often needy, but she was tonight. At some point, she’d reached her hand up and taken hold of his, apparently needing that comfort. He was happy to provide it. 

She surprised him when, after getting them fresh sodas during the seventh inning stretch, she asked to lay with him on the couch. He moved back to give her some room, expecting her to spoon with him. Instead, she lay down facing him, snaking her arms around him and entwining her legs with his. He looked down at her. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“The only reason I want to cuddle with you is you. You’re gorgeous, you know.” 

“I’m glad you think so. If you want to talk, just… let me know.”

She reached up and kissed him, first lightly and slowly, but building the heat of the kiss, leaving no doubt what she wanted. 

“I don’t want to talk. I want you to take me to bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want your hands on me. I want your mouth on me.”

He rolled them over so that she was on top of him, gently putting his hands behind her thighs and moving her legs to straddle him. From there, it was easy for him to swing his legs off the couch and stand with her in his arms, her legs around him. She never stopped kissing him as he carried her into his bedroom and gently laid her down on his bed. 

She pulled his shirt over his head, which made him grin. She never let him keep his shirt on for long when they started kissing. But she was different tonight. Laura was the most impatient lover he’d ever had. As long as he had known her, she had wanted to tear ahead while he tried to slow things down to savor the moments. Which put him squarely in the driver’s seat, exactly where he wanted to be, with her urging him and pushing him and, if he made her wait too long, begging him for what she wanted. There was something incredibly hot about how eager she was for him, and especially how much more he could make her feel than her impatient nature, left to its own desires, would allow. 

Not tonight. Tonight, she wanted kisses and caresses. She wanted closeness. He could do that. He prepared himself for a slow, leisurely, sensuous fuck that might last hours. He concentrated on the sensation of kissing Laura, tasting her and listening to her beginning to moan. This was what he thought of when he thought of them together. He didn’t think about the bad times. He thought about this. How good they were together, how much he liked the way she made love to him, how hot and furious they could be one moment and how soft and loving the next. 

“I love you,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Sunshine…” 

He undressed her slowly, partly because that was what she wanted, and partly because he had no choice. She had pulled him on top of her and seemed to want to keep him there. Eventually, though, she loosened her hold on him enough that he could begin to kiss down her neck. He spent a very long time using his mouth and his hands to savor her breasts, listening to her low moans and filling his eyes with the sight of her. Her eyes were closed, and she wore the slightest Mona Lisa smile as she moved under him. 

He kissed and licked a trail down her abdomen, shifting his position until he could use his tongue on her. She groaned and squirmed, occasionally muttering his name softly. But that wasn’t really what she needed. She took his hands and pulled him toward her, guiding him back to lying on top of her with their bodies touching for their full lengths. She moved her hips and thighs, encouraging him to enter her. He moved with her, trying to be gentle and pay attention to her movements and sounds, helping her to adjust to his size. She didn’t want that, either. She made impatient noises and wrapped her legs around him, pulling him into her. 

As Peter moved in and out of her, she wrapped a hand in his hair. “I love you,” she murmured again, pulling him down into a deep kiss. 

“I love you, too, Sunny,” he assured her, feeling strangely emotional in this moment. 

When she came, he asked her to say his name. She did. Over and over.


	25. You've Got A Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone surprises OC Laura Parker by telling her that their unplanned night together wasn't so unplanned, after all. Lucia Barba asks Laura to help her son Rafael, who she thinks is in trouble. Despite her misgivings, Laura offers him her help. Out of desperation, he accepts.

The morning was clear and beautiful, which meant it was likely to be another steamy New York summer day. Laura sat in a deep reading chair, legs pulled up to her chest, wearing a white terry-cloth robe. Her bed hair gave evidence that she hadn’t been up for long. She stared out the window, absently holding a cup of coffee, lost in thought. Peter came out from the bedroom, shirtless and wearing track pants, his hair sticking out in several directions. He poured himself a cup of coffee. From behind the kitchen counter, he looked at Laura for a long moment. 

“Let me guess. You’re enjoying a nice, steaming cup of self-reproach this morning.” He came over to slouch down on the chair facing hers by the window.

Her mouth twisted and she gave a short, silent chuckle in acknowledgment, but kept looking out the window.

“You’re telling yourself what a terrible person you are, taking advantage of poor, innocent me.”

She looked into her cup and gave a short sigh. “Something like that.”

He took a drink of coffee and smiled. “You didn’t use to be such a sucker.” 

For the first time, she looked directly at him over her coffee cup, cocking an eyebrow.

“You might be surprised to learn that I have a will of my own.” A devilish look came into his eyes. “You don’t really think _you_ seduced _me_, do you?”

She blinked. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you have nothing to feel guilty about, Sunshine. It’s not going to work for us long-term, I get that. But you know how I feel about you. I love you. So when you said you were upset, I invited you over hoping things would turn out just the way they did. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

She sat studying him, her coffee cup halfway to her mouth, forgotten. She had not considered that, and was unsure how to take it. But she also felt a sense of dawning relief. “Huh.”

He put down his cup and slid from his chair to kneel in front of her. She was spellbound by the slow, seductive way he moved, especially when he took her cup from her hands and set it down on a table, looking into her eyes the whole time. He took her into his arms, pulling her to him. He tilted his head and leaned toward her. Just as their lips were about to make contact, he growled, “I’m no angel.”

As he kissed her, he pulled her from the chair she sat on, laying her on the floor in the block of sunshine streaming in from the window and gently slipped the robe from her shoulders.

********

The day had turned out to be so quiet that the squad had the opportunity to catch up on the paperwork that never seemed to end. It was late summer, so everyone but Laura and Fin had left for the day, taking advantage of a rare opportunity to spend the lovely evening enjoying the weather. Noting that the pile of reports she had completed was approaching the size of the pile she still had left, Laura stretched her arms over her head, rotating her neck. She noticed movement near the door to the squad room. A tall, lovely, dark-haired woman in a bright red blouse and black slacks stood looking around anxiously.

Laura stood and went to her. “Hello, I’m Detective Laura Parker. How can I help you?”

“Oh,” the woman exclaimed. “You’re actually the one I came to see.”

“Oh? What can I do for you?” She wondered which of her cases this woman was connected to, or whether she was there to make a report of some kind. 

“Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” 

“Of course. Please,” Laura said, leading the way to an interview room. She politely showed the woman to a seat and offered her a drink, which she declined. Laura sat across the table from her, letting the woman speak first.

“My name is Lucia Barba. I’m Rafael Barba’s mother.”

Laura gaped. “Oh! It’s a pleasure to meet you, _Señora._” This was definitely strange. Why in the world would Barba’s mother be here at the station, and what could she want with Laura in particular?

“Please, call me Lucia.”

“And I’m Laura.”

“Laura. I… well, I know this is going to sound strange and hard to believe, but I’m here because I think Rafael needs help.”

“What kind of help?”

“I think someone’s threatening him. He won’t talk about it and he tries to hide it from me, but I know my son. Something is wrong.”

“May I ask, what made you ask for me?”

“Well, that’s a little hard to explain, too. A feeling, more than anything. The thing is, I know he’d kill me if I told Olivia Benson about this – you know, he’s… proud, and I think he’d feel like she would see him as weak if he asked her for help. I can’t really explain it, but I know he wouldn’t forgive me for that, even if he really is in trouble. But he mentions you. He likes you. He said that you live in his building, and something about you being hopeless at building furniture, and it… sounded to me like you might be someone he wouldn’t mind confiding in about this.”

_Oh, Señora, you couldn’t be more wrong._

“_Señora_ – “

“Lucia.”

“Lucia, I think you should know that I barely know your son. He and I do live in the same building, but I’ve only been here at SVU for a few months. I’m sure he’d confide in Lieutenant Benson before he’d confide in me.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” She patted Laura’s hand. _What is this, some sort of Mom juju? You say it and it becomes true? Oh, this is awkward._ “Rafael – if he was on fire, he’d make a joke about how warm it was, but he’d never ask anyone for help. Especially someone like Olivia. But someone like you… I don’t think he’d mind so much.”

_I know for a fact I don’t want to know what ‘someone like me’ means._

“Lucia, I am definitely willing to help your son. If you’d like to tell me what’s going on, I will talk to him and offer whatever help I can. But I want to be clear. We barely know eachother, and… He’s pretty likely to refuse.”

“He’ll complain, but he won’t refuse. You’ll see.”

“Then please, tell me what’s going on.”

“As I said, I think he’s being threatened.”

“What makes you say that?”

“When he comes to see me, he gets calls, and when he sees who it is, he goes in another room. I hear him having angry conversations, yelling and swearing.”

“Opposing lawyer, maybe?” 

“No, he takes those calls at the dinner table. And they don’t swear.”

“All right. Did you hear any words during these calls?”

“A lot of legal words. I know I heard ‘unethical’, ‘disbarred’, and ‘witness tampering’. There was also something about threats and murder.”

“Hmmm. What is it that makes you say that it’s Rafael who’s being threatened?”

“He’s afraid. These calls, they really shake him, and it’s fear. Anger, too, but mostly fear. He tries to hide it from me, but he’s scared.”

“Is there anything else that makes you concerned?”

“He’s not himself, Laura. He’s stressed, he’s angry all the time, he’s distracted.”

For over half an hour, Laura asked questions and developed more and more of a picture of what Lucia Barba was seeing. Laura didn’t have much experience of Rafael to compare to what his mother was describing, but it definitely sounded like something was wrong. And now that she thought about it, he had been particularly stiff and irritable lately. Even for him.

“Anything else out of the ordinary?”

“Well, there was this one strange thing. He got a call recently, and at first it was just a conversation with a judge.”

“How do you know it was a judge?”

“He called the person ‘judge’, and he was using his ‘judge’ voice – I can always tell when it’s a judge, most other people he’s more mouthy with.”

Laura grinned. 

“But then, the conversation got tense. And pretty soon he left the room, and I heard the same kind of conversation – the swearing and arguing.” 

Now Laura was troubled. “Swearing and arguing with a judge?”

“Yes. I’m sure of it.”

“Lucia, If you’re right about a judge being involved, that would be a very big deal. I think we should call in Lieutenant Benson.”

“No! He’d never speak to me again. That’s why I came to you. If I’m wrong, or… Just… talk to him. Ask him. He won’t talk to me about it.”

Laura was concerned, and not sure what to do. She and Barba really didn’t know eachother. He was the A.D.A. assigned to SVU while she was no one - the newest detective on the squad. Besides the fact that, despite Lucia Barba’s impression to the contrary, he didn’t like Laura. He made that plain on a daily basis with his standoffishness.

This was really something Liv should handle. But Señora Barba was very persuasive, and Laura liked her. She could also tell Rafael’s mother was a professional woman with her own life who didn’t make a habit of worrying over her son. And she was sure Señora Barba was right about Rafael not wanting Liv or the whole squad to know if he had a problem. Laura felt trapped. She found herself saying, “Ok. I’ll talk to him. I don’t know if he’ll talk to me, but I’ll try.”

******

“Mr. Barba? Detective Parker is here.” Carmen stood in the doorway to Rafael’s office. 

Rafael looked up suddenly, his brow furrowed. “Send her in.”

Laura walked in and stood uncomfortably. 

“What can I do for you, Detective?” He waved a hand at the chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

Laura perched on the edge of one of the chairs before Barba’s desk. She didn’t speak for a few seconds. 

“Yeah, this is awkward,” she began, laughing nervously. Barba just looked at her, waiting for her to speak.

“So, you and me, we’ve known eachother for about five minutes. And you’re… you, and I’m the FNG on the squad. But here we are.”

“Detective, if you have a problem, I need to remind you that I’m not your lawyer. I can’t represent you.”

“This isn’t about me, Mr. Barba. It’s about you.”

“OK…” he replied, looking confused. 

“Look, I’ve been thinking about how to do this, and I think it’s best if you just listen to me for two minutes, and don’t say anything. Then I walk out of here and you decide where to take it from there. Can you agree to that?”

Rafael looked intensely at Laura for a moment. She felt like she was getting an X-ray. She decided she never wanted to be cross-examined by him. He shrugged agreement and sat back in his chair.

“Your mother came to the station to see me. She’s very concerned about you.” Laura told him what Señora Barba had told her. His initial reaction was fairly acute irritation that his mother had spoken to her about him. Soon, however, he began to really listen, not concealing his concern as well as he hoped he was. Laura saw what Barba’s mother had been talking about. She was right. He was in some kind of trouble.

“So. Here’s what I came to say. If you have a problem, I will help you if I can. I’m new here, and I’m new to you, but I know what I’m doing. I have your back, if you want me to.”

Laura got up and walked to the door. “I won’t bring this up again. To anyone. Next move’s yours.”

Barba didn’t say anything as she left.

*****

Three days later, Sonny Carisi stood in the middle of the squad room, a huge red and yellow super soaker water gun in his arms. His eyes crinkled with glee as he threatened Laura, Fin, and Amanda Rollins with it. 

“Carisi, put the gun down,” Laura said, standing about ten feet in front of him while Fin and Amanda sat at their desks. They were all smiling.

“Oh, that’s not gonna happen. The only question is, who gets it?” 

“Carisi, you’re a child,” Amanda said, dropping her head into her hands. “This is the person who’s supposed to save my ass in a crunch,” she moaned.

Laura stepped closer to Carisi. 

“You want some of this?” He asked, menacing her with the squirt gun.

“You squirt me with that, my revenge will be swift and severe..”

“Yeah, yeah… Big talk from someone about to get drenched!” He took a step toward her, waving the water gun around.

Fin sat at his desk, a huge smile on his face, but pretended to be annoyed. “You people got nothing better to do than play with fake weapons when we got humps with real ones to catch?”

Carisi looked over at fin, laughing. Suddenly, without warning, Laura closed the distance between herself and Carisi and, moving too fast for Fin’s or Amanda’s eyes to follow, grabbed the barrel of the water gun and twisted it out of Carisi’s hands. When she stopped moving, Laura was the one holding the gun, aimed directly at Carisi. His stunned, confused look was priceless. 

“You want some of this?” She mocked.

“What… how’d you do that?” 

“Hey, can you teach me to do that?” Fin asked.

“No,” Laura laughed, “But I know someone who can.” 

“How long you been practicin’ that?” 

“A while. I just learned it ‘cuz it’s cool. Now that I have my blue belt, I can start to learn it for real, but it’s more for show than anything. Not really practical in the real world.” 

At that moment, Barba walked into the squad room, having watched them playing with the water gun from the safety of the doorway. The detectives muttered greetings as Laura handed Carisi the water gun and they both returned to their desks. Barba strode to the door of Olivia’s office and looked in, knocking quietly on the doorframe. She waved him in.

The detectives returned to the work they’d been doing before Carisi came in with the water gun.

Fifteen minutes or so later, Benson’s and Barba’s voices caused them all to look up briefly as she walked him out of her office.

“Hey, guys, why don’t you knock off for tonight,” she called to the group, turning to go back to her desk.

With a dark look, Barba stepped over to Laura and muttered, “I’m heading home if you want a ride.”

She tried to hide her surprise, pretending not to see Fin’s raised eyebrows as she quietly agreed. “Sure. Thanks.”

As they rode the elevator to the underground parking below the station, and for much of the drive, conversation was sparse and superficial. For the most part, Laura made a few remarks about nothing and Barba grunted or responded in monosyllables. She knew she was waiting him out; everything about him told her he hadn’t just stopped by the station to chat briefly with Olivia, and hadn’t just casually offered her a ride. So she wasn’t surprised when he drove past the cross street for their building. She looked over at him, but neither said anything until he turned into a city-owned complex of baseball fields used for Little League and amateur softball leagues. He found a parking spot and turned off the car.

“Let’s walk,” was all he said. 

She got out and walked with him toward a brightly-lit field where overweight and out of shape office workers were having a great time playing a feeble game of softball. The nurse in Laura noted that Barba’s gait was off. He leaned noticeably to one side and seemed to be favoring one leg.

“I think my car might be bugged. I know my office is,” he began. She didn’t respond. 

“There’s a very ugly case involving some very nasty people. And those very nasty people don’t want a trial. The witnesses are under lock and key, and these people want me to tell them where they are. They’re not looking to send flowers.”

Barba led Parker to a set of bleachers and they sat together watching the game, too far from the other spectators to be overheard. The spectators were enjoying themselves and their beer too much to pay any attention, anyway. As they sat watching the softball game, Barba explained in detail the unbearable pressure he was under to provide the witness’ locations and derail the prosecution. The pressure was made worse by the fact that it was coming from a judge whom he had previously respected and liked. He was appalled to learn that the guy was merrily raking in huge amounts of money to throw cases brought against a particular criminal enterprise. Worse, he was genuinely afraid that the group would carry out the hideous physical threats the judge had passed on to him.

They had already begun. He had been attacked in the parking garage near the courthouse the night before, when two massive goons had used their bare fists to rain punches on his torso and limbs, where the bruises would be covered by his suit. He couldn’t go to the police, because they had told him there were several cops on their payroll. Barba believed them.

Rafael was cornered. After the beating, his options had narrowed considerably. He could give in to the judge’s demands, thereby assuring the deaths of three witnesses and the dismissal of a host of righteous charges against a group of thugs. He could throw the case and be responsible for whatever the group would do next, not to mention the possibility of disbarment or even prison. He could be gruesomely killed himself. Or he could take the whisper-thin thread of hope Parker had offered him. He didn’t think she could do anything for him. But he had decided that, at the very least, it would be good to just talk to someone about what he was enduring. He could lessen the burden at least that much. 

Laura was intently watching the players on the field. Barba could almost hear the machinery of her mind clinking as she processed what he had told her. Three batters struck out in the time she sat silently. She finally turned to him as the teams switched sides. 

“How long do you have?”

Barba closed his eyes and huffed. “They’re already getting physical. I figure maybe one more ass-kicking and then they’ll just kill me. I cannot believe I actually just uttered that sentence in complete sincerity.” 

“Then we need to buy some time. This information they want, is it in your office?”

“No.”

“Good. Here’s what we’re gonna do.” For the moment, her only thought was to keep him safe until they could come up with a plan to get him out of the situation alive and employed. 

Rafael dropped his car off at the station house and Laura signed out an unmarked car. If they were tracking his car, the trail would end there. They went to Barba’s apartment, where he packed a few days’ worth of clothes and things. It seemed likely that he would get another visit from the goons tonight. Hopefully they’d think he was at the station, but even if they were waiting for him at the apartment building, Laura doubted they would attack him with her there. Wherever the goons were, neither Rafael nor Laura saw them, and they didn’t risk trying to get to him. When he had what he needed, they drove to a huge, high-rise hotel – the better to blend in with the crowd - and Laura made sure he got safely to his room.

Barba’s mood ricocheted between fear, anger, and shame. He was beginning to think he might see a faint glint of hope somewhere in the distance, just because Parker seemed so confident they would figure out how to untangle him from this situation. But even that sat bitterly with him – how pathetic was he that he had no choice but to beg this rookie detective he had just met to get his ass out of a sling? He was a bit relieved when she left to go back home. 

They didn’t end up needing the time they’d bought stashing Barba at the hotel. Late the following morning, his stomach lurched when he saw Parker’s name come up on his cell. 

“Mr. Barba, I want you to get the stuff together. The names, pictures, addresses, everything they want.”

“You’re not suggesting I give it to them. They’ll kill these people.”

“Not gonna happen. You need to trust me now. Just lay low until I get there. Did Carmen cancel your court appearances?”

“I only had one, and someone took it for me. I haven’t left this room all day.”

“Don’t. I’ll be there sometime later. I don’t know when.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Better than that. Trust me. Can you do that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Sure. Several of them. But the others suck.” 

Barba sighed a string of Spanish expletives. 

“Wow. That was impressive. Will you teach me that?” There was actually a smile in Parker’s voice. 

“No.”

She actually chuckled as she hung up. Either she was a sadistic witch enjoying his torment, or she really did have a plan she expected to work. 

At seven that evening, Laura knocked softly on the door of Barba’s hotel room. He let her in, looking haggard and wired on caffeine.

“I need you to make a phone call,” she told him.

“Who am I calling? What’s this plan of yours?” 

“Mr. Barba, you’re gonna hate me for this, but I can’t tell you. I just need you to do what I ask.”

He frowned and made a disgusted noise. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Please. You need to trust me. I’ll explain everything, but for now, just do it.”

He spewed a couple more Spanish vulgarities. “Fine. Who am I calling?”

“Judge Renseau. He tried to set up a meeting before. Tell him you’ll meet him at the same place tomorrow at eleven a.m. to deliver what he wants.”

“And I’ve had this miraculous conversion why?”

“Because you’ve decided to go to the Dark Side. You’ll give him what he wants for $50,000.”

“What? Are you insane? I’ll lose my license! I’ll go to prison! What the hell kind of ridiculous –“

“Barba.” Her voice was loud and authoritative. He stopped speaking almost against his will.

“Make the call. I got you. Just do it.”

He did. 

The following day was filled with gorgeous summer sunshine with a light breeze. Rafael found himself walking on wobbly legs through the open garage door into a small mechanic’s shop. There was no car in the bay, but three men – one of them Judge Renseau – stood waiting for him near the back wall. All wore suits, but the two apparent bodyguards flanking the judge wore theirs so badly the suits looked like they’d been purposely made with the wrong proportions.

“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, Counselor.” The judge had a smooth, oily voice and seemed quite amused at the situation. “And I’m actually pleased you’re getting something out of this. I think you’ll see working with us is far more lucrative, and less painful, than working against us.”

“Whatever,” Rafael sneered. “Let’s do this. You have the cash?”

One of the bodyguards opened a manila envelope he held and showed Rafael a stack of bills. “Hand over the stuff,” he grunted, his pronunciation pure Jersey shore.

Rafael lifted the envelope he was carrying toward the judge, who moved to take it. However, at the same time, the other bodyguard reached into his jacket.

“Don’t!” Came a loud female voice from behind Rafael. All eyes turned to see Laura aiming her Glock at the bodyguard.

“Who the hell are you?” The judge’s tone was suddenly as Jersey as his friend’s. 

Laura didn’t answer, but remained still. 

“She’s with me,” Rafael answered, just a hint of his usual snark coloring his voice. In a corner of her mind, Laura was impressed that he could be so cool given the situation, and that he hadn’t known she was there.

“I’m sure there’s no need for a weapon,” the judge began, trying to recover his sophisticated veneer.

“So am I,” Laura said. “So get that hand back out of your jacket, Sparky.”

The bodyguard who had reached into his jacket pulled his hand out and held it up. 

“Now,” Laura continued. “Mr. Barba has something you want, you have something he wants. Just do what you came for. No need for things to get sporty.”

With a venomous look at Laura, the judge took the envelope from his bodyguard and handed it to Rafael, taking his envelope at the same time. 

Without taking her eyes off the judge and his friends, Laura murmured, “_Señor Barba, pase por aquí_.”[1]

Rafael did as she asked, mostly because he was glad someone other than him was making decisions. 

“_Detrás de mí,_”[2] she ordered softly, taking her left hand from under her gun hand and guiding him behind her. She then lifted the hand to her mouth. 

“Go, Go, Go,” she announced calmly into her sleeve.

Armed, vested cops poured into the little garage from behind Rafael and Laura, from a door behind the judge and his bodyguards, and from a side door Rafael hadn’t even noticed. Laura pulled her gun up so that it aimed at the ceiling as she was backing Rafael away from the action, keeping between him and danger. In moments, they had disarmed and cuffed the judge and his cronies. 

Laura holstered her weapon and turned to Rafael. “You OK?” She put a hand on his arm.

“I… Yeah.” He stared at the scene, bewildered. “I thought you weren’t going to tell anyone about this.” 

Laura smiled brightly. “I didn’t. They called me. These guys are from the gang unit and that – “ she pointed behind and to the side of Rafael. “Is their newest confidential informant.” 

Rafael’s mother stood smiling at two beefy officers with tatoo sleeves and serious weapons. Her expression was as if she had just conducted the entire operation herself. 

“No. No, that’s… No – “

Laura put a hand on his chest to stop him from storming over to his mother. “Relax. She’s fine. They’re crazy about her. Apparently, you have a cousin in this unit?”

“Holy shit. Ramón. I didn’t even think of him.” 

“You were a little preoccupied. Anyway, he called me yesterday. Your _mami_ leaves nothing to chance. She tracked him down and told him what she told me. Turns out your friend the judge is well known to the Organized Crime Unit. They were about ready to roll up the whole enterprise, so they jumped at the chance for a sting. They’re arresting guys all over town right now. Ramón talked them into letting Gangs make this bust, invited me to tag along, and here we are.” 

“You could have told me,” Rafael groaned, beginning to accept that this was all really happening.

“I’m sorry. We needed you scared. We couldn’t take the chance Renseau would catch on and set a trap for you.” She really did sound apologetic and put a hand on his arm again. “I know it’s been rough. It’s over now.” 

A wiry Hispanic man about Rafael’s age stepped over to where they were standing. “Rafael,” he said, smiling. 

The two men embraced. 

“What the hell did you get yourself into, _tonto_?”[3] His tone was teasing, as though Barba’s situation had been a game or an inconvenience.

Rafael didn’t respond other than to swear under his breath. 

“OK, OK, _socio_,[4] let’s get your statement and you can go back to your nice, clean world aboveground.” He turned to Laura. “You’ll fill out a report, _¿no?_”

She grimaced. “Can’t. My Lieutenant would see it. I need to be just a witness on this one. I’ll give you a statement…”

“You pulled your weapon.”

“Look, I know, but I’m sort of freelancing on this.” She inclined her head to indicate Barba. “We’d both like to keep this from getting back to our unit. Can you cut me some slack here?”

“All right, I think I can get my Sergeant to look the other way if you’ll give us a witness statement. And if you’ll have a drink with me.” 

“Done.”

Rafael blinked in consternation as his cousin hit on Detective Parker, apparently successfully. It seemed disquieting, although he told himself it was no more bizarre than anything else that had happened to him in the last couple of days. 

*****

Laura opened her apartment door to find Rafael standing in her hallway, hands in pockets, shuffling from foot to foot. There was something in his face she’d never seen before.

“Mr. Barba,” she said, eyebrows raised.

“I need to thank you,” he said quietly, looking into her eyes. “You saved my life, and my career, and my reputation, and my ass… I owe you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied.

“Thanks for that, too. Everybody’s talking about the busts, but as far as I can tell, nobody at SVU knows we had anything to do with any of it.”

Laura stood with one hand on the doorjamb and the other on the knob, waiting for him to say the rest of what he’d come to say. 

“Why’d you help me? You hardly know me.”

“We built Ikea furniture together. There’s a bond.”

The look on his face told her he wasn’t in a joking mood.

She shrugged, but her tone was serious. “You’re SVU. Someone messes with you, they mess with me.”

For a moment, he stood looking at the floor, brow furrowed, struggling with something. “You made me stand behind you. If he shot at me…” he finally said.

“I had a vest on. You didn’t. That’s how it works.”

He looked up at her with troubled eyes. “I don’t think I feel very good about you getting between me and a bullet.”

“That’s how it works,” she repeated. 

He thought about that for a moment, then turned to go, muttering, “Thanks again.”

“There is something you could do for me, if you’re feeling grateful.”

He turned back around.

“I’m getting a little tired of ‘Detective’. My name is Laura. Do you think you could call me that, at least around here?” 

His lips twisted slightly. “If you call me Rafael.”

“Deal.”

“Goodnight, Laura.”

“Goodnight, Rafael.”

[1] Mr. Barba, step over here.

[2] Behind me.

[3] stupid fool

[4] partner, associate, sidekick


	26. Find Me A Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucia Barba tricks her son Rafael and OC Laura Parker into spending a very enjoyable day together at a Latino street fair.

Occasional strains of music and tantalizing aromas wafted up to Laura’s apartment, spurring her to hurry. Amazingly, on a Saturday when she wasn’t working, the early fall weather was perfect and there was a Latino street fair happening just a block from her apartment. She tossed a faded jean jacket over a sleeveless dress of soft white cotton, tied on tattered Keds that had been red at one time, and headed out. Her hair was still damp from the shower, since she’d gone to an early class at the gym. Feeling virtuous for getting up early and doing what she needed to do, she was ready for a sunny day of doing nothing but enjoying the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of the street fair. 

She took the stairs to the street and followed the music. The city had blocked off ten blocks of the street, and vendors and fairgoers had pushed the boundaries into some of the side streets. There was a grassy park at one end with a bandstand on each side, the lawn full of blankets with couples and families relaxing and enjoying the music and sunshine. Even in the happy crowd, Laura was vigilant, and felt a little naked not being armed. She thought that was probably permanent now. She did have her shield. You never knew.

As she stood admiring handmade copper jewelry in a booth and chatting casually with the wizened _abuela_ whose daughter was the artist, Laura heard her name called. She turned toward the voice to see Lucia Barba rushing toward her, arms out, an elated smile on her face. _Señora_ Barba grabbed her into a bear hug, excitedly greeting her.

“Laura, it’s so good to see you! I didn’t get a chance to thank you for what you did for Rafael, and I’m so grateful. I knew something was wrong. Thank you for keeping my son safe.”

Laura laughingly hugged her back, thinking again how much she liked _Señora_ Barba. 

“_El gusto es mio, Señora. Gracias por dejarme ayudar._”[1]

“And I was right, wasn’t I? He complained, but he let you help him.”

Laura smiled, looking past Lucia to see Rafael standing, trying to look annoyed behind his Ray-Bans. 

“You called it,” she said to Lucia. “And it was a brilliant move to call Ramón. He was the one who pulled it all together. Which means it was you who really saved Rafael. All I did was hide him.”

“And pull a gun before that _matón_[2] could pull his. I wish I could have seen that.”

“Yeah, well. That’s what friends are for.” 

Laura smiled at Rafael, who grinned back uncomfortably. He preferred not to be the topic of his _mami’s_ conversation. You never knew what she might say.

“Well, we’re both grateful, aren’t we, Rafi?”

“We are,” he answered. “Thank you again, Detective.”

Laura tilted her head.

“Laura.”

Her smile brightened. She got a little thrill hearing him say her name, and was somewhat dazzled by how good he looked there in the sunshine, relaxed and casual in jeans and a white polo shirt. He hadn’t shaved. She wondered whether he knew how good that slight scruff looked on him.

“How are your bruises?” She asked.

“All but gone. Can we talk about something else?”

“What are you doing in Manhattan, Lucia?”

“If I want to see Rafi more than once a year, I have to come to him. Anyway, we love this fair. We come every year. You should let me introduce you to my friend Inez. Her daughter in law has a booth just down there and she makes the most beautiful Colombian _polleras coloras_.[3] I don’t know where you’d wear them, but they’re gorgeous. It’s just down here…”

Laura looked back at Rafael for help as she was enveloped in Lucia’s arm, and voice, and persona. Much more comfortable now that he had recovered from the initial shock of seeing Laura here, and that he was no longer the subject of conversation, he was perfectly happy to simply follow, smiling broadly, as Laura experienced the force of nature that was his mother. And though he would never say it, he was ecstatic that his mother appeared to have conscripted Laura to experience the fair with them. This way, he could enjoy her company, without having to be the one to risk proposing that himself.

A few booths further down the street, they reached one that was a riot of brilliant colors and flowing fabrics, trimmed ruffled skirts moving gracefully in the breeze. Lucia saw her friend, a short, squat Colombian woman with a brilliant smile, and introduced Laura to her. Soon several women were crowding in to greet Lucia. Aside from a few that had no translation, every word was in Spanish. Laura had all she could do to follow the discussion. Between the different accents and overlapping conversations, she was too busy listening to offer much comment herself. 

After several minutes of animated conversation, she felt Rafael move up just behind her, close enough to quietly murmur into her ear in English, “Let me know if you need rescuing.”

She leaned into him as much as she dared. “I may take you up on that.”

“It’s my turn.” 

Something about the tone of his voice bothered her. She turned a bit to look up into his face. “You OK?”

When he put an arm lightly around her shoulder, she felt it throughout her entire body. A shadow over his face told her he was not entirely over the experience he’d just come through. “Just glad it’s over.”

“If you need to talk…”

He squeezed her shoulder, turning her back toward the group of women, all of whom were watching their quiet exchange with great interest. “Later.”

The older women began to cluck and fuss over “Rafi”, the way they spoke to (and about) him making clear they had known him from childhood. It was also obvious they were intensely curious about Laura’s relationship to him.

Lucia Barba was nothing if not savvy. As the three wandered down the crowded street, they eventually came to a very busy booth selling empanadas, owned by a family Rafael had known his entire life. Lucia quite calculatedly got herself “talked into” helping the family tend the booth, leaving Rafael and Laura on their own.

“_Vaya_[4], Rafael… Show Laura a good time. Enjoy the day together,” she called cheerfully, tying on an apron.

Laura strongly suspected she was matchmaking, and Rafael knew for sure that’s what she was doing. He pretended to be annoyed with her, but Lucia wasn’t fooled for a second. 

“_Mami, usted es un entrometido_,”[5] he whispered to her as he kissed her cheek before leaving the booth.

She pulled him into a hug to cover her reply. “_Solo te estoy cuidando, mijo. Ella es linda. Ella te gusta. Y ella está loca por ti_.”[6]

“_Puedo encontrar mis propias citas_.”[7]

“_Pero no lo harás. Entonces lo haré por ti_.”[8]

Rafael and Laura stepped out into the sunshine, joining the busy throng of fairgoers. This was the part Laura was absolutely useless at. She wanted nothing more than to spend time – the whole day, if she could – just walking around with Rafael enjoying the street fair. But precisely because it was so important to her, she had no idea how to let him know that without embarrassing herself. She stood, completely unable to think of a thing to say.

Rafael was too consumed with his own thoughts to notice. He was thinking that, since his mother had gone to so much trouble to arrange this golden opportunity, he wasn’t about to waste it. At the same time, his internal alarms were in overdrive. His _mami_ had done this to him more than once, but never with a woman he was in any danger of truly caring about. He felt suspended, perfectly balanced between wanting to make an excuse to leave the fair and wanting to take Laura’s hand and show her everything.

They might have stood there forever, never making a move, had a stray breeze not blown a streamer from a neighboring booth. Its motion caught Rafael’s eye. He turned to see Laura, a lock of her hair caught by the same breeze, pushing it behind her ear. She looked at him as he looked at her, and gave him a smile that made his decision for him. 

“Come with me,” he said, putting a hand on her lower back to steer her into the flow of the crowd. “I want to show you something.” 

Laura shivered, feeling him touch her in such a proprietary way. Rafael wondered how she would react if he kept his hand on her, or even put an arm around her. He talked himself out of doing either.

As they made their way through the crowd, Rafael asked as casually as he could, “How was your date with Ramón?”

“Short.”

“Oh? What did he do?” For a man who had no intention of getting involved, Rafael was surprisingly relieved to hear that Laura’s date with his cousin hadn’t gone well.

“He was fine. There’s just… nothing there.” Her nonchalance seemed genuine to him. “We ran out of things to say by the end of the first drink.”

“Too bad.” 

She shrugged. “It’s O.K. So what are you going to show me?”

“Something I know Ramón didn’t tell you.”

They walked about a block, not hurrying, just seeing the sights, watching the crowd and trying to get used to the lovely surprise gift Lucia had given them: an entire day to enjoy together. They pointed out interesting booths or people to one another and tried to make each other laugh. Spanish being by far the most prevalent language around them, and as much Rafael’s first language as English, they naturally fell into speaking Spanish. Although she clearly tried, Laura would always have a fairly heavy American accent. She had trouble with verb tenses, like everyone who learns a new language as an adult, and once or twice he had to stifle a laugh at the way she expressed something. Not that the words were wrong, exactly, just in an odd order and sometimes descriptive of something that she didn’t know the Spanish word for. He found it endearing. 

Often, they would be jostled or separated by the milling crowd, and Rafael wondered whether he should, or could, take Laura’s hand. He wanted to – very much wanted to – but wasn’t sure he could pass it off as mere logistical necessity rather than the affectionate gesture it would actually have been. Wrestling with the decision, he hadn’t done it by the time they reached his destination. 

A stage had been set up at the back of a vacant lot at the end of the block they’d walked, with a fair number of people standing before it watching a group of dancers. The men wore close-fitting black pants and chest-baring shirts in white, and the women wore brightly colored, very sexy dresses with short, ruffled skirts that bared their legs with every move and twirl. 

“I’m related to about half the people on that stage,” Rafael told her.

“Seriously? What’s that dance?”

“It’s the cha-cha-chá in Cuba, but here we just call it the cha-cha. And the third guy from the left is Ramón. With the girl in the red dress?”

Laura squinted and watched Ramón for a moment. “Wow! He’s amazing! Why would he not tell me he’s such a great dancer? That seems like a pretty good pick-up line.”

“He’s private about it. He’s proud of it, but a lot of the guys on his squad don’t even know he dances.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“Well, that’s another reason he doesn’t talk about it much. That’s his sister, Selena.”

Rafael and Laura watched the dancers for about half an hour, as they performed a number of different dances, all beautiful and fascinating to Laura. He pointed out which of the dancers were relatives and it was, in fact, about half of them.

“So, do you dance?”

“Oh, hell no. My father wouldn’t hear of it. My ex-wife did, though.” 

Laura was glad they were focusing on the stage when he said that. It had never occurred to her that Rafael might have been married, although it probably should have. The distraction of the dancers gave her the chance to react without him watching her while she did.

“Oh, you were married?” She tried to sound merely casually interested.

“Single worst experience of my life, and that includes two root canals and the New York State bar exam.”

“Ouch. How long were you married?”

“Interesting question. I was married for seven years. She was married for a somewhat shorter period of time.”

“Oh, man. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Have you had about enough of the dancing Barbas? I’m getting hungry.”

“I could watch this all day. But food sounds good.”

As they made their way through the crowd that had piled up behind them watching the dancers, he reached back and took her hand. He didn’t intertwine his fingers with hers, but held her hand in his as they snaked through the knots of onlookers. His hand felt strong and warm, and Laura allowed herself an inner shriek of glee. So what if she had a dorky grin on her face? He was leading her through the crowd; he couldn’t see it.

When they reached the street again, he let her hand fall. She was disappointed, but tried to play it cool.

“And you?” He continued the conversation when they were again side by side, walking down the street, shoulders barely touching. “Ever been married?”

“I was engaged once. God and José Cuervo had other ideas. We’re still good friends, but… some things you just don’t come back from.” 

“I’m sorry. Would I be right in guessing that the groom-that-wasn’t is Peter Stone?”

“Got it in one.” 

“I have another very important question that will determine the future of our friendship. What is your political position on churros?”

“Pro. I am firmly pro-churro.”

“Good, I don’t have to shun you. C’mon, let me buy you some.”

They found a small patch of grass in front of one of the stages in the park, where a group of musicians were doing their best to play salsa music. A number of people danced in front of the stage, apparently determined to enjoy the music, however bad.

Sitting down next to Rafael and accepting the churro he offered her, Laura gestured toward the stage. “Should I try to guess how many of those guys you’re related to?”

“You think all Hispanics are related? That’s racist.”

“Mmm-hmm. How many?”

Rafael looked carefully at the stage. “Two.”

Laura whooped with laughter. It had been a lucky guess. She had heard Rafael’s mother and her friends discussing one woman’s daughters who played percussion instruments in a salsa band. 

For a long time after that, they sat companionably and people-watched, talking casually about Rafael’s huge extended family, people they both knew, and the differences between New York and Chicago. At some point, Rafael laid down on his side, his head on his hand, looking up at Laura. He looked suave yet casual, all sunglasses and stubble and thick, dark hair blowing slightly in the breeze. She wanted nothing more than to stretch out beside him and pull him on top of her. She realized just a moment too late that she was staring.

“Something wrong, Detective?”

“N- no, I’m just… wondering whether you want to talk about what happened with Judge Renseau. I don’t want to ruin a nice day, but I do want to, you know, be supportive.” _Whew. Nice save._

To her surprise, he told her candidly how frightened he’d been, how helpless he’d felt, and how comforted he’d been by her visit to his office. 

“I know I didn’t say it, but I really appreciated that. I felt pretty alone.”

“You weren’t.”

“I know that now.” His mischievous grin told her he was about to make fun of her. “I wish you could have seen your face. You expected me to read you the riot act and throw you out of my office.”

“Pretty much. But I had no choice. I get the feeling nobody says no to your mother.”

“You would be right about that.” He looked down at the grass, pulling a blade and staring at it in apparent fascination. “It must’ve taken some guts for you to come to my office.”

She smirked at him. “I’m not afraid of you. Unfortunately for you.”

“_Desafortunadamente._”[9] 

“What?”

“It’s a tongue twister, I know. Try it again. _Desafortunadamente._” He wondered how she would take him correcting her Spanish, half expecting her to take offense. That would have been uncomfortable, but what she did instead made him even more uncomfortable.

She became very serious as she asked him to say it again, looking at his mouth and trying very hard to imitate his pronunciation. It was so cute and inexplicably hot he found himself repositioning his legs to hide his reaction. She had no ego about it. She understood that she would always speak Spanish with an American accent and probably always make mistakes. Despite that, or maybe because of that, she really wanted to improve. She was willing to be entirely instructed by him and repeat the syllables, and the word, as many times as she had to until he was satisfied. He imagined her looking like that, so intent and serious, eager to get it right and win his approval, when he asked her to do other things with her mouth. 

“That’s it. You got it. Let’s walk.” He popped up from his position on the grass so fast she wondered if she’d done something wrong. Angling his body away from her, he held a hand out to her and helped her up from the ground. 

As they walked the street, going back in the direction of their apartment building, their conversation seemed to stay on more serious topics. Not deeply philosophical, just subjects more personal than observations about people around them or the booths they passed. As Rafael was explaining the reasons he had become a Prosecutor, he turned toward her to say something, and found that she wasn’t there.

Turning back the way they had come, he saw her about 5 steps behind him, in the act of twisting a greasy young man’s arm behind his back. 

“NYPD! On your knees, Sparky,” she told him in a commanding voice. He had no choice; with the angle at which she held his fingers, it was the only way to release the pressure. As he hit the ground, she used her free hand to pull her shield from an inside pocket of her jacket and show it to him.

“Look, man, I’ll give it back! Just take it, man!” He held up a wallet in a creamy, fine black leather. Rafael’s wallet.

Laura plucked it out of his hand and, seeing Rafael step up next to her, handed it to him. “So, Harvard? You’re the boss. What do you want to do?” 

Rafael couldn’t have hidden his smile if he’d wanted to. He actually laughed. “It’s a party. Let him go.”

“You sure?” She asked, not releasing the pickpocket.

“Hey, listen to him, Lady, he’s the boss.”

“Shut up,” she bawled, shooting a disgusted look at the kid on his knees at her feet and, had she known it, sounding exactly like Fin.

“Let him go, Detective. I don’t want to spoil our day doing paperwork.”

Laura helped the kid to his feet, but didn’t release his arm immediately. She looked up at him as he towered over her. “Get out of here. And I mean all the way out. I see you again today and we are gonna be doing that paperwork, you got that? Do you realize you just pickpocketed a D.A?”

The kid lost it. His eyes went huge and he bolted to the side, between two booths and into a side street. 

For what had to be the twentieth time that day, Rafael was enchanted. As they both laughed uncontrollably, he unconsciously put an arm around her shoulder and they started back down the street. 

“How did that happen?”

“I saw him pick your pocket.”

“You saw… my wallet was in my back pocket. What, exactly, were you looking at?”

Laura blushed furiously, causing Rafael to laugh even harder and squeeze her to him. He couldn’t help it. The look on her face was so adorable he simply had to hug her as he shook with laughter. 

“I wasn’t… I saw movement behind you.”

“You saw movement? Please. You better hope for a particularly impressionable jury.” 

_Holy shit, how am I even walking right now? If he hugs me again, or smiles like that, I’m just going to throw him to the ground and do him right here. And then I’ll be the one being arrested._

“You know, you could try being a little grateful. I did you a favor.”

“You did, and I am grateful. I’m not sure whether I’m happier that I still have my wallet or that you were checking out my ass.”

“I was so not checking – forget it. Next time, Sparky gets to keep your wallet.”

_All I have to do is look up, just put my face somewhere in the kissing zone_… Laura was completely frustrated by her inability to make smooth passes at men she really liked. This was about the fifth time she’d felt like, if she just leaned a bit more toward him, or stepped a little closer… But the moment would pass without either of them making a move. She was sure she was the only one feeling those moments. She was wrong.

They found a small stage in a side street where a scruffy band of people played a Peruvian-flavored music heavy on _charangos, bandurrias_, and pan flutes, with several different hand-held drums and other percussion instruments. There was a core of players, but others appeared simply to be joining from time to time, just jamming. The music was great. Both Laura and Rafael wanted to stay and listen, so they found a spot on the grass to sit. Once Laura was settled, Rafael went in search of something to eat for dinner while they listened. 

As he walked back to the street and tried to choose among all the delicious foods available, Rafael thought back over the day. He knew he was in trouble. He could not remember spending a more enjoyable day. He tried to think of a word to describe how he was feeling about Laura, even aside from his serious sexual attraction to her. He felt extremely… fond of her. He liked her immensely, looked forward to what she was going to say or do next, and just generally wanted to be around her. Fond. Yes, that was the word. Extremely fond.

He decided that, since they’d been sampling foods from assorted Latin American countries throughout the day, he wanted to bring her something Cuban. He chose a booth from which a mouthwatering aroma was permeating the air, bringing back boxes of _ropa vieja_ with black beans, yellow rice, and plantains, with big cups of lemonade. It wasn’t easy to eat sitting on the grass and, since both of them were wearing white, they laughed through the challenge of trying to spill as little as possible. The music was so good, they stayed listening and talking for a long time after they finished eating. 

They were both sorry to see the light fading. Vendors were beginning to pack up their wares, and the crowd was thinning. When the band announced that they were playing their last song, Rafael and Laura looked regretfully at one another and gathered up the debris of their dinner. 

Laura never thought about what she was doing until she had already reached out and taken Rafael’s hand as they walked. If she had, she would never have had the courage to do it. The action was simply an extension of her happiness at being with him, and her deep attraction to him. His heart gave a lurch as he felt her put her small hand in his and, this time, he entwined his fingers with hers. Neither gave any indication that they noticed anything unusual, although they were both thinking of nothing else. 

“Rafael, this has been the best day. I really had fun. Thanks for everything,” she said as they approached their building. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, she was matchmaking.”

Laura laughed. She wondered if he would say anything else, and was vaguely disappointed when he didn’t. She’d given him an opening big enough to drive a truck through.

He wished she hadn’t. Her delicate but hard to miss hint was so inviting he could hardly keep from abandoning all his stupid rules and asking her to marry him. Like he had been the night he’d built her cabinet, he was actually looking forward to getting away from her. It was too hard to be around her, with her ratty Keds and her adorably bad accent and her musical laugh, and remember his promise to himself. 

“I’m going to hate going to the office tomorrow, especially if it’s another beautiful day,” he offered, hoping like hell to get the conversation to safer territory.

“It’s Sunday. Do you have to go in?” _The weather? Really? That’s what you want to talk about?_

“Unfortunately, I do. I have no wifi, and I’ve got a lot to get done for Monday.”

“What’s wrong with your wifi?”

“Above my pay grade. All I know is it’s out and my guy can’t get here until Wednesday.”

He opened the door for her, and she stepped past him. 

“My wifi works fine. Use mine.”

“Your wifi isn’t going to reach up to my apartment.”

“Then come to mine. I actually have a table now, so you’ll have a surface to work on. I’m on duty, so I’m afraid you’ll be on your own, but you’re welcome to work at my place. I’ll give you a key.”

They walked across the lobby toward the elevators. “Laura, this is New York. You can’t just give your keys to anyone and say, ‘hey, come hang out in my apartment while I’m not there’.”

“I just did.”

“I could be a serial killer.”

“Are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then we’re good. Stop off with me. I’ll give you a key.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped in as he smiled and shook his head. _This woman…_

He followed her into her dark apartment and stood while she went into her kitchen, flipped on the light and took a key from a drawer. She stepped back around the counter and handed it to him. 

“Use it, or don’t. But you really are welcome to, so you don’t have to go in to the office.”

“Thank you. I might do that.”

With that, they’d reached the moment that had been on both their minds for at least the last half hour. Rafael wanted to be as kind and natural as possible as he made his escape. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Laura’s feelings, especially after such a magical day. Laura’s thoughts were entirely different. _I know I’m gonna jack this up. But as God is my witness, that man is not walking out of here unkissed._

“Listen, Laura… There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said, quiet in the half light from the kitchen. “You know, the night with your Ikea cabinet… That was fun. And I’m sure you got whiplash from the way I’ve treated you since then.” 

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t owe me any explanations.” 

“That’s good, because I don’t have any. But I do want to apologize. I treated you badly, and still when you heard I was in trouble, there you were, ready to do battle for me. So… I enjoyed that night we built that cabinet. I really did.”

“So did I.”

“And I’m sorry that I went right back to being a dick.”

“I didn’t say – “

“Detective, I’m apologizing. Doesn’t happen often. Try to keep up.”

They chuckled in their mutual discomfort. 

“Apology accepted. And for the record? I do not think you’re a dick, and anytime a friend of mine is in trouble, I’m gonna be there. It’s kind of my thing.”

“So we’re friends then?”

“Try to keep up.”

With another of his sexy half-smiles, Rafael said, “It was a great day. I really enjoyed spending it with you. Thanks.”

Awkwardly, hesitantly, they fumbled their way into a hug that wasn’t what either of them wanted, but it was warm and affectionate, and it was enough. 

[1] My pleasure. Thank you for letting me help.

[2] Thug, goon

[3] Traditional Colombian skirt that is long and made of a lot of fabric so it flows when the wearer dances

[4] Go

[5] Mami, you’re a busybody.

[6] I’m just looking out for you, my son. She’s cute. You like her. And she’s crazy about you.

[7] I can find my own dates.

[8] But you won’t. So I’ll do it for you.

[9] Unfortunately


	27. Fatally Friend-Zoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone tells his ex-girlfriend, OC Laura Parker, that he has met someone. Laura tells Peter that she thinks she's met someone, too, but Rafael Barba is keeping Laura firmly in the friend zone. She thinks he is attracted to her, too, but he won't take advantage of any of the openings she gives him. The squad don't get their non-romantic relationship, given their obvious attraction, but they're getting used to Barba and Parker being friends.

“I met someone.”

The storm of emotions unleashed by those three words took Laura by surprise. 

“Huh.” What else could she say? Peter wasn’t hers. 

“I thought I should tell you.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Do you want me to tell you about her?”

“Oh, hell no. But thank you for giving me credit for being more evolved than I am.”

She most definitely did not want to know about whoever Peter had started seeing. In fact, she wanted to scream and cry and throw a tantrum. Fuck reason and maturity. 

“Are you OK?” Peter’s voice was quiet and kind; he could guess what she was probably feeling. 

“I don’t know. I’m jealous as fuck, and I feel… I don’t know what I feel. But it doesn’t matter, because this is how it has to be.” 

Peter and Laura sipped their drinks in thoughtful silence as she looked around the bar, trying to take in this realignment of their relationship. She supposed it was time to let him know just how much their relationship had realigned since they’d last seen eachother.

“I… think I met someone, too. I mean, I did, but I don’t know if he did.” 

“What does that mean?”

“It means he’s… complicated. Hard to know. Doesn’t trust anyone, doesn’t want to.” 

“Huh. A challenge. That must be… exciting, I guess.” Suddenly Peter had to make his own decision about whether to throw a tantrum. It was tempting. Fuck, this was hard. 

Laura brought her eyes back to him, sitting across the small table from her. “You ok?”

“Jealous as fuck.” He repeated her comment, grinning sadly. “Which I know makes no sense in the circumstances.”

“Of course it does. We love eachother. If I could keep you all for myself forever, I would. Even if I was with someone else. That’s just how it is. If you feel the same way, then at least there’s that.” 

He thought about that for a minute. “I guess this means we have to keep our hands to ourselves from now on.”

“Maybe we should only meet in public places.” 

This was the first time they’d seen eachother since they’d watched the Cubs game at Peter’s apartment, several months before. They’d texted and called a few times, but they were both on second careers and both ambitious, not to mention that they’d chosen careers that were time-consuming to begin with. They just hadn’t had the opportunity to get together. 

And, if Peter was honest with himself, he had been getting a little too hung up on Laura again for his own comfort. For her part, Laura remembered that most of her reason for sleeping with Peter that night had been that she thought Rafael had rejected even her friendship. But she also remembered that the reason she slept with Peter the next day had been all Peter. That wasn’t good, because this day was always going to come.

“Laura?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever ask me to double date with you.”

“Fuck, no. Never. Don’t worry.”

Another thoughtful silence followed.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell her if she hurts you, I’ll reach down her throat and pull out her lungs.”

************

In the month or so since the street fair, something fundamental had changed in Rafael and Laura’s friendship. Rafael had at last decided to take advantage of Laura’s wifi that weekend, which meant that he was in her apartment when she miraculously made it home for dinner that Sunday night. Since it was dinnertime and they were together, it just seemed natural to have dinner together, and then Rafael had continued working while Laura sat across the table from him, playing her online role playing game. 

That Monday night they’d both worked late, but again on Tuesday night, they found themselves together in her apartment for dinner. And so began a sort of habit that continued of its own inertia even after Rafael’s wifi was back online. Of course, it wasn’t entirely inertia – Laura somehow broke through her usual romantic ineptness to figure out that, if she simply texted him and asked if he wanted to have dinner together, he would then have the opportunity to say yes. And he did. 

It didn’t happen often, but usually at least once a week. They always had plenty to talk about and, although they laughed constantly, they’d also shared some pretty personal pieces of their lives with each other. Laura had begun to make more of an effort to make it home by dinnertime, even if she didn’t know whether Rafael would have to work late. She wondered if maybe he did the same thing. He invited her at least as often as she invited him.

When he’d tried to return the key to her apartment, she’d asked him to keep it. It seemed like a good idea, she reasoned, that a neighbor should be able to get into her apartment if necessary. He’d argued about it a little, but he’d also put her key on his key ring. A few weeks later, he had given her a key to his apartment, in theory so that she could borrow a book they’d discussed. But he had pointedly not asked for it back. 

Laura thought everything would have been wonderful, except that he had placed a hard boundary between them. He was happy to see her. Laura knew it. All her instincts about people, which she knew were reliable, told her that. And he was interested. She knew that, too. The way he looked at her, the way he touched her (when he touched her), even the way he spoke to her told her that. So why didn’t he respond to her invitations? Why could she stand too close to him, find reasons to touch him, lean in when it seemed like he might kiss her, and flirt absurdly with him, without him ever walking through the massive doors she kept opening for him? Could she really be misreading him that badly? And if she was, why wouldn’t he say something? It wasn’t like she was being subtle. She’d left subtle several miles back. 

She never asked herself why she didn’t just make the move herself. She didn’t have to. She knew that it was fear, pure and simple. She would be crushed if he rejected her – even more crushed than she’d been after their first dinner together, because now she knew him so much better. And cared so much more.

**Rafael:**  
You home?

**Laura:**  
Yeah

**Rafael:**  
Dinner?

**Laura:**  
Pizza?

**Rafael:**  
Tedious. Thai.

**Laura:**  
We had Thai last time. Mexican.

**Rafael:**  
I heard about this place that makes a bacon-wrapped mozzarella-stuffed cheeseburger with a grilled cheese bun.

**Laura:**  
Hipster.

**Rafael:**  
Is that a yes?

**Laura:**  
You order. I’ll be up.

Laura knocked at Rafael’s door about twenty minutes later. As he opened the door, she felt a familiar sensation in the pit of her stomach as she took in his slightly mussed hair, his blue button-down shirt, his immaculate slacks, and the unmistakable pleasure on his face at seeing her. She saw him taking in her old, torn jeans, which he always made fun of, and her rose-colored T-shirt top with the loose neckline and the darker overshirt, which stopped pretty much exactly where her waistband started, meaning that a sliver of skin showed when she moved. She’d seen him notice that before. It wasn’t an accident that she was wearing that shirt.

Rafael looked down at Laura’s jeans as she walked past him into his apartment. “You might need an exterminator. That looks like mice.”

“Not your best line. I still like the one about crazed weasels the best.”

The news was playing quietly on the television in Rafael’s living room. Laura plopped comfortably on his couch, knees pulled up. “What’d I miss?”

“Jumper on the Triborough Bridge dressed like a pirate.” Rafael took his usual spot on the other end of the couch and put his feet up on his coffee table. 

“I love New York.”

Laura noticed again the immense difference between her apartment and his. Even though they had the same floor plan, they hardly seemed like they belonged in the same building. His apartment was tasteful and pristine. He’d hired a decorator who had created an environment that was based in tranquil grays, but with frequent splashes of color. Everything was well-planned and in its place. It was so Rafael that Laura had actually laughed the first time she saw it. She loved it.

When the food arrived, Rafael asked whether she would like to change channels and watch something less unappetizing. Laura giggled. 

“Are cheesy action movies more appetizing than the news?”

“_Claro._[1] Because they’re completely fake, and the good guy always wins.”

“It scares me that that makes complete sense.”

“It should. So. Arnold, Jean-Claude, Sly?”

“Something where a lot of shit blows up. You know, Harvard, it still freaks me out that you have such lowbrow taste in movies.”

“I’m so ashamed.” Rafael smirked as he looked through the apps on his television to find a movie. 

An hour later, a skyscraper and several cars were on fire and a musclebound actor in bloody clothing was running around with a gun while Laura, curled up on the end of the couch, slept peacefully. Rafael had no interest in the flaming skyscraper, cars, or musclebound actors. He was watching Laura. He found it sweet that she was incapable of watching a movie from beginning to end without falling asleep, even when the movie was as loud and filled with explosions as this one. But he wished she’d fallen asleep snuggled against him. 

He watched her sleep, taking the opportunity to look at her for as long as he wanted. He expected that she’d wake up when the closing credits played, as she usually did. He loved the way her ridiculous jeans fit, and the swath of abdomen revealed where her shirt pulled up. He loved that Laura had pushed her feet against his leg as she stretched her legs in her sleep.

He had no idea how they’d gotten here. One minute, he’d been happy in his work-obsessed world, with some good friends and a big family for the rare occasions he wanted to spend his sparse free time with other people. He’d been absolutely certain he would never let another woman into his life. The next, this raggedy, sassy, irresistible woman was asleep on his couch and the only place he’d rather have been was in bed with her. What the hell was he doing to himself? The minute she started seeing someone, she would be gone and his evenings would be achingly lonely. Again. _Admit it, Barba, you’ve allowed “happy” to become a pretty low bar. You’re only seeing that now because she’s showing you what happy really looks like._

He closed his eyes and sighed. So be it. That was the price of survival. He would not, could not, allow himself to fall in love again. Another crash and burn like Anatalia would kill him. He would never allow himself to be that vulnerable again.

The closing credits started, but she didn’t waken. He turned off the TV, reached over and put a hand on her shin, softly calling her name. 

“Hey, time to wake up. Movie’s over.”

She made a couple of sleepy noises and blinked her eyes open. She sighed as she sat up. Rafael smoothed her sleep-tumbled hair. Without thinking, she leaned drowsily against him sitting next to her on the couch, putting her arms around him. His arms reflexively folded around her. 

“I’m sorry. I’m the worst date ever.”

Rafael chuckled against her hair. “Remind me to tell you about the worst date ever. You’re not even in the top ten.” He couldn’t stop himself from kissing her on the top of her head; the warm, floral smell of her hair was too tempting. 

He began to move his arm and realized he was about to put his hand under her chin to pull her into a kiss. Instead, he continued the movement by letting her go and standing up. He held a hand out to her and helped her up.

They said goodnight and she sleepily made her way down the stairs to her own apartment. 

********

Barba hoped he could get through his meeting with SVU in time to do some more prep for the hearing on Buchanan’s motion in limine this afternoon. He really needed to win. If the evidence was kept out, the upcoming trial would be more of an uphill climb than it already promised to be.

As he came through the door into the squadroom, the first thing he noticed was that the squad was all wearing casual clothes. Very casual. He could see Olivia in her office, wearing leggings and a T-shirt with a jacket tied around her waist. Carisi was standing at his desk looking like a vagabond, wearing an outfit Barba was pretty sure was old when God was a kid. Fin looked great. He sat at his desk wearing soft linen pants and a Hawaiian shirt in surprisingly muted colors, topped with a straw hat. And Rollins was standing next to him in a bright, flowy skirt and a body-hugging off-the-shoulder top.

And then there was Laura. She sat on top of her desk, tying those scruffy red Keds. Her ragged cutoffs looked suspiciously like very old jeans that had gotten so battered she had to cut the legs off, with a few white strings hanging from the frayed hem and almost no blue left in any seam. These shorts had probably been jeans she’d worn in high school, and her T-shirt looked nearly as old. It had apparently had a picture of Mickey Mouse on it at one time, but the only evidence of that was a shadow that was a bit lighter than the rest of the shirt which, itself, had been… red, maybe? There was a grey hoodie. He couldn’t look directly at the grey hoodie. 

For a split second, he noted the difference between Parker and Rollins. Rollins, with her blue-eyed blonde Southern vibe, was one of those women who is just straight up beautiful. Barba could appreciate that without it reaching him. Laura was different. The hackneyed term “girl next door” didn’t fit, because it implied merely pretty. Laura was more than pretty. Her look was more like, “hot girl next door who does very naughty things in the back seats of cars.” And that look got to him.

Rafael clamped down on all these thoughts. _Que demonios._[2] He was over forty years old. He was not about to pitch a tent in the squad room because Laura had on a pair of short shorts. He felt a distant sense of Catholic guilt as, in the very back of his mind, he suspected he’d be thinking about those shorts later. When he was alone.

“You ready, Rollins?” Parker asked happily. “Let’s go get paid to lay in the park all day.” 

“And get groped. Don’t forget the groping.”

“That, too. I still get to play with Frannie, right?”

“Don’t worry, she has more than enough energy for both of us.”

Barba stood in the doorway of Benson’s office. “So I’m in court all day, while you guys are going on a field trip?”

“Groper in Riverside Park,” she told him. “You’re welcome to come along.” 

“And will you be taking my in limine hearing?”

“Maybe Frannie will.” 

The meeting between Barba and the squad was necessarily short because they all had places to go. Barba was glad. His friendship with Laura already violated enough of his rules; he didn’t need her standing there, all legs and shabby clothes he should have hated, smiling at him.

The squad was getting used to the strange friendship between Parker and Barba. Why they weren’t dating when the attraction was obvious, no one understood. What the squad did understand was that the two spent time together outside of work, and seemed to be in each other’s confidence. And they were starting to be annoyingly cliquish. Not only did they speak Spanish to one another most of the time, but they clearly had secrets. Or at least private jokes.

[1] Of course.

[2] What the hell.


	28. What's Left Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba helps OC Laura Parker through night terrors resulting from an event that reminds her of her attack. But she is not happy to learn that he looked into what happened to her.

Laura’s physical injuries weren’t bad; a slight black eye and a few bruises. The perp’s had been much worse. Which was the problem. The whiny shit had screamed bloody murder about police brutality. When Lieutenant Benson received the message that IAB was sending someone over and that Parker should be ready to explain herself, she had wasted no time contacting Barba. He had been in her office inside of an hour. She wondered how hard Carmen had had to work to clear his schedule, but she knew that no union delegate would defend one of her detectives half as fiercely as Barba would defend Parker.

Although the Sergeant from IAB hadn’t been happy about it, Rafael had been masterful in bamboozling her into allowing him to attend the meeting in lieu of Laura’s union delegate. His argument had been the purest bullshit, but the IAB Sergeant wasn’t very experienced in her role, and she reluctantly bought it. In any event, Olivia thought that sending such a rookie to investigate the incident probably meant IAB didn’t take the complaint too seriously.

The Sergeant sat on one end of the couch in Olivia’s office, Laura on the other. Olivia sat on the edge of her desk and Rafael stood, nervously pacing in the small area between the desk and couch. Laura was silent for much the meeting, her eyes frequently focused on nothing. Rafael and Olivia were both worried about her. It wasn’t quite a thousand-yard stare, but she was definitely not entirely present. She hadn’t been since the arrest. The whole time they’d been preparing her for this meeting, they’d had to keep recapturing her attention because she’d simply drift away.

Olivia could see Fin, Carisi, and Rollins trying to appear busy while anxiously keeping an eye on what was happening in her office. Fin had argued vehemently that he should be present for the interview, since he’d been present for much of the incident, but the IAB Sergeant hadn’t budged on that. She insisted on interviewing them separately, as she should.

Rafael took control of the interview at first. “Sergeant, you know Dario Cristano has been convicted _five times_ of beating the hell out of women. One of those women died. God knows how many times he’s gotten away with it. This maniac tried to evade arrest, sucker-punched Detective Parker, and then went after her when she defended herself.” 

Barba was pissed. Olivia was glad he was here, because she was concerned. Parker had really hurt the guy. 

“Let me explain the laws of physics to you, Sergeant,” Rafael continued. “You can see that Detective Parker is just over five feet tall. I’m sure she can’t weigh a hundred pounds. Mr. Christano is more than a foot taller and he has her by at least ninety pounds. He’s perfectly capable of killing her with his bare hands, which is what he tried to do.”

“I understand that he is bigger than she is, Mr. Barba. I also understand that he has significant injuries, which Detective Parker admits to having caused, and that she had to be pulled off of him by her partner.”

“That’s not what Sergeant Tutuola is saying.” Olivia argued.

“Well, that’s what Mr. Cristano is saying,” the Sergeant snapped. “I want to hear what Detective Parker has to say.”

All eyes turned to Laura who, having heard her name, reluctantly brought her focus onto the conversation. She recited her lines word for word. “My partner and I attempted to arrest Cristano. He broke free and ran, and we chased him two blocks until we lost him. We searched for him; I went into the alley where he was hiding. He jumped out and grabbed me from behind, and punched me in the face.” She stopped, took a shaky breath and shook her head as if to clear it before she pointed to her black eye. “He continued to attack me. I defended myself and took him to the ground. It took both myself and Detective Tutuola to subdue him.”

One of the things Rafael appreciated about Laura as a cop was that she listened to him, followed his instructions, and therefore made a solid witness. He just wished she didn’t sound so disconnected from the story she was telling. He didn’t think she sounded rehearsed; that wasn’t what bothered him. It was more that she sounded like she wasn’t paying much attention to what she was saying. Like she was somewhere else.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say about what happened?” The Sergeant looked up from her notetaking to peer closely at Laura. 

Laura shrugged. “I did what I had to do. I wasn’t trying to hurt the guy, I was just trying to stop him hurting me.”

The Sergeant put on a pair of reading glasses. “He says, and I quote, ‘The Detective swung me face-first into a brick wall. She kicked my legs out from under me and threw me to the ground. When I tried to escape the beating, she elbowed me in the jaw, knocking me back to the ground, then knelt on my chest and hit me repeatedly in the face.’” The Sergeant looked up from the report she was reading from, pulling her glasses off.

“His injuries are consistent with that report, Detective.”

Laura took a breath, looked briefly at Rafael, and said, “They would be. I did all of those things. That’s what it took to subdue him. As I said, he grabbed me from behind and punched me in the face. I had to fight him to the ground. What he calls ‘trying to escape the beating’, I call trying to escape arrest. I was trying to roll him over to be cuffed. And he forgot to mention the part where he threw me several feet into some trash cans, and tried to run away.” Laura pulled up a sleeve and the side of her shirt, showing some ugly bruises. “Which is consistent with _my_ injuries.” 

Rafael wanted to cheer. He’d told her to do exactly that. 

“Detective Tutuola heard me hit the trash cans and came to my assistance as I was trying to regain control of Cristano. Together, we subdued, cuffed, and arrested him.”

The room was silent for a moment. When the Sergeant didn’t immediately ask any further questions, Olivia stood. “We done here?” She asked archly.

“I’ll need to speak to Sergeant Tutuola,” the Sergeant replied, standing also.

Olivia opened her office door and motioned for Fin. Laura stood and stepped out of the office, passing Fin, who gave her a nod. 

“Hey,” he called after she had passed him. She turned around to face him.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I got you.” He said, holding out a fist. 

“Thanks, partner,” she said, smiling weakly and bumping his fist with her own.

As soon as the door to Olivia’s office closed, the other detectives were on Laura. 

“How’d it go?” Carisi asked, taking a seat on Laura’s desk as she sat down behind it.

Laura shrugged. “OK, I guess,” she answered.

“You know,” Rollins said from where she sat nearby, “This is just a formality. They’re only investigating this because they have to.”

“Guy like that, the Department oughtta pin a medal on you for rearranging his face,” Carisi said.

“The NYPD doesn’t give medals for making stupid mistakes and getting yourself jumped in an alley,” Laura grumped. 

“Hey,” Rollins said, rolling her chair over to put a hand on Laura’s arm. “Nobody has X-ray vision. He was hiding. You found him. He tried to escape and you kicked his ass and made the collar. End of story.”

“Whatever,” Laura sighed. “I just hope it ends here.”

“It will,” Carisi assured her. “Fin’ll back you up a hundred percent. It’s your word against a woman-beating scumbag.” 

Fin’s interview was even shorter than Laura’s had been. Soon, the Sergeant from IAB left, promising to let them know the result of her investigation. Fin, Olivia, and Rafael came over to stand near Laura’s desk. 

“Fin’s statement matched yours,” Olivia told her. “I don’t think we’re gonna hear any more about this.”

“Thanks, Lieu,” Laura said, and fist-bumped Fin again.

“But I am gonna send you home,” Olivia said kindly. “You’ve had enough for one day.” 

“I’m fine-“ Laura tried.

Olivia pointed to her shield. “Lieutenant. Go.”

“OK, OK… I’m going…” Laura smiled weakly and stood. 

“_Te acompañaré_,”[1] Rafael offered. 

As they made their way out of the building, Rafael asked her in a low voice, “You OK?” 

Laura shrugged. “I have a headache and I feel like a rookie. I should never have let that happen.”

“What is it you think you ‘let’ happen?”

“I got jumped from behind. I missed the guy in the dark.”

“Yes, and then you took control and arrested him. You win, he loses. All’s right with the world.”

Laura smiled despite herself. She loved having them all on her side. “Nobody’s going to let me feel sorry for myself about this, are they?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he replied, smiling at her. She thought, yet again, what a great smile he had. 

“I gotta get back to the office, can I give you a lift home?”

“What are you, Uber? It’s hardly on the way,” she said.

“Part of the many services I offer, along with dashing good looks and sarcasm.”

Laura laughed out loud. “I’d argue with you, but I’m not in the mood to get stared at on the subway.”

“Good.”

“Hey, Rafael… Thank you. You didn’t have to help me out with IAB. I owe you one.”

He held the door open for her and they stepped out into the street. “You’d have done fine without me. But, my pleasure.” 

It was after 10 p.m. when Rafael got home from his office. He had intended to send a quick text to make sure Laura was OK, but had been busy every minute since he’d returned to his office from driving her home. He was still bothered by the way she had looked at the interview.

He sent her a text, but got no answer. Maybe she was asleep. He couldn’t shake the desire to check on her. He knew he was probably being self-indulgent, but he decided that it wouldn’t hurt just to go down to her apartment and knock. He’d just have to take the chance of waking her up. It wasn’t that late.

He took the stairs two floors down to her apartment and tried to knock softly enough that he wouldn’t wake her if she was asleep, but loud enough that she’d hear him if she wasn’t. He thought he’d heard a faint cry from inside her apartment. He couldn’t even be sure he’d heard it, but he didn’t hesitate. He used his key and let himself in. 

“Laura?” He called out softly. No lights were on. This time, he definitely heard her making sounds of distress. He hurried through the dark living room to the door of her bedroom, where he stood listening to her rapid, labored breathing. It sounded like she was muttering to herself. He could see the bed well enough to see she wasn’t in it, and tried to figure out where she was.

“Laura?” He called again. “It’s Rafael. Are you OK?”

He heard more tortured breathing and thought he heard her mutter his name. “I’m turning on the light,” he said.

When he did, he instantly saw Laura, crouched in a corner, aiming her gun directly at him. Her eyes were wild, her hair disheveled. She was sweating and shaking, breathing hard as though she couldn’t catch her breath. She was clearly extremely agitated and fighting to control what looked to Rafael like abject terror. 

Shocked, he reflexively held up his hands until, slowly, as though afraid to do it, she moved her forearms to the side, aiming the gun away from him. He took a few tentative steps toward her, horrified at her condition and at a complete loss as to what was wrong with her.

“You’re Rafael,” she murmured in a pressured, insistent gasp, looking through him. Her eyes darted around the room constantly. “You’re my friend. You’re not going to hurt me. It’s OK. It was just a dream. He isn’t here. He can’t be here. Everything is OK…”

She seemed to be almost chanting, trying desperately to reassure herself of reality. “I’m OK. He can’t be here. He’s dead. I killed him. I felt him die. I saw him dead. It was only a dream. Everything is OK…” She wore a tank top with spaghetti straps over pajama pants. He could see that her top was soaked with sweat.

Rafael spoke to her in a quiet, calm voice. “No one is going to hurt you. There’s no one here but you and me.”

“The door. Did you lock the door? No, the door locks behind you. Everything’s OK. No one can get in…” She continued to shift her eyes constantly, trying to keep her eyes on the entire room at once and to see beyond Rafael out the bedroom door, as though at any moment, someone was going to jump out and attack her.

“The door is locked. No one else is here. I can… do you want me to make sure?”

“Yes! Make sure. Turn on the lights. Turn on all the lights. He isn’t here. He’s dead. I killed him…”

Rafael quickly went through the living room and kitchen, turning on every light he passed. When he was done, he tried to move slowly and calmly as he re-entered the bedroom and took a few steps toward her. “No one is here. Just you and me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No. You’re not going to hurt me. Everything is OK. It was just a nightmare.” 

She seemed to be just a bit calmer now. He decided to try to take a few more steps toward her. “Laura, you’re safe. I’m here, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“I’m safe. I’m OK. No one is going to hurt me. It was just a dream. He isn’t here. He can’t be here. He’s dead.”

Rafael took another step toward her and squatted down. “You’re safe. All the lights are on. No one is here but you and me. Do you think you could give me the gun? You don’t need it. You’re safe.”

Laura looked down at the gun in her hands, held out in front of her but, mercifully, no longer aimed at Rafael. “I’m safe. I don’t need a gun. There’s weapons everywhere. Everything is a weapon. I’m safe. He’s not here.”

“No, he’s not here. You’re safe. Can you give me the gun?”

She relaxed her arms a bit. He reached out very slowly, and put his hands on hers. She let him take the gun from her hands. He flipped the safety on – holy shit, she had aimed a loaded gun with the safety off at him in this condition – and set the gun on the far side of her bedside table.

“Weapons are everywhere. Everything’s a weapon.” She was breathing and speaking noticeably more slowly now, although still wild-eyed and panicked. He stayed squatting in front of her, making sure not to block her view of the door. He was starting to think he understood what was happening. He had worked with cops long enough to know the signs of post-traumatic stress disorder, although he’d never seen anything like this. She must have had a nightmare, and was now having to fight her way through the memories of whatever had happened to her, back to reality. 

She continued to chant reassurance to herself. Rafael simply sat with her for a long time, occasionally quietly affirming that she was safe. Her eyes continued to scan the room, but perhaps less fearfully. She was still shaking hard, though.

“He’s not here. He can’t be here. He’s dead. I killed him. I felt him die. I saw him dead. I’m safe.”

“You’re safe. And I’m here with you. Everything is OK.”

For the first time, she looked at him and seemed to actually see him. “Rafael?”

“I’m right here. Everything is OK.”

“Why are you here?”

He thought about the most reassuring thing to say. “I came to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’m safe. No one is here. Right? Everything is OK.”

“Right.” 

“OK,” she said, still breathing hard but seeming to be fully awake and working her way toward something approaching calm. Her shaking seemed to be more from cold now than terror. “OK.” 

“What can I do?” He asked her.

“It was only a nightmare. It’s OK. He can’t be here.”

He wanted desperately to ask who “he” was, but instinctively knew that would be the wrong question to ask. Who had she killed? What had “he” done to her? 

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“Yeah. Cold.”

He stood up and took the comforter from her bed. As he did, he noticed that her sheets were tangled and looked to be soaked in sweat. He stood to her side so as not to block her view of the room and the door, as he laid the comforter over her shoulders and pulled it around her. She grabbed the sides and clutched it to herself as though for protection. She didn’t seem to need to chant reassurance to herself anymore. 

“Better?” He asked, squatting near her again. 

“Better. Thank you.” She said quietly. “OK. OK…” she occasionally whispered to herself as she tried to slow her breathing.

Minutes of silence passed, punctuated only by her occasionally whispering to herself, “OK. OK.” 

After a while, she looked at him. “I’m OK. I just… had a nightmare.”

“I got that. Should we try to get you back to bed?”

She thought about that. “I guess so.” 

“Do you think you could stand up?”

She nodded. He stood and reached a hand out to her. She slowly took it and he helped her stand. She was slick with sweat and he thought her sweat-soaked top was probably annoying. 

“How about we go into the bathroom and wash your face? Do you want to do that?”

She nodded again. “OK,” she whispered, more to herself than him. 

He led her slowly around her bed and toward the door to the adjoining bathroom. She dropped the comforter on the way. She looked over her shoulder more than once as they went into the bathroom, but seemed much calmer and was no longer shaking. She let him sit her on the side of her bathtub while he ran some warm water on a washcloth. He squatted in front of her with one hand on her leg and tenderly wiped her face. 

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he said in a gentle tone. “Do you want to talk about it, or…”

She gave a deep sigh. “No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“OK. But you know you can trust me, if you want to…”

“No,” she said more firmly. “It was… It was a long time ago. I trust you, it’s just not something I want you to know.” She started to cry.

“I’m sorry,” she said, heaving a sob. “I’m sorry I’m such a basket case.” Rafael wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to try to hug her, so he cradled her face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe her tears. 

“You’re not a basket case. Mouthy pain in the ass, but not a basket case.”

She laughed through her tears and gave a shudder.

“You’re still cold,” he said, rubbing his hands on her upper arms to generate a little warmth. 

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“Tell you what. Take a warm shower for a minute. I’ll change your sheets – they’re soaked. Get warm, put on some clean pajamas and get into bed. Get back to sleep.”

“OK. But I won’t sleep. Can’t close my eyes.”

“Well, one thing at a time. Where do I find pajamas and sheets?” She told him.

“OK, you get in the shower and I’ll put some clean pajamas in here for you.”

“No peeking,” she said.

“No promises.”

“Everything’s a weapon,” she said, in the first flash of her usual self he’d seen tonight. His lips twisted slightly up and they stood.

Laura came out of the bathroom in a fresh tank top and sleep pants a few minutes later, her wet hair pulled into a hasty knot. He was just finishing putting the comforter back on her freshly-made bed and suddenly became very interested in that when he noticed how little the tank top concealed. 

She smiled a little. “You so didn’t have to do that,” she said. “But thank you. For everything.”

“Get in,” he told her, pulling back the covers. She got into bed and pulled up the sheet, but stayed sitting up.

“I won’t get back to sleep,” she told him again.

He sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been thinking about that. You said you can’t close your eyes.”

She shook her head. “I just… if I close them…” She didn’t finish, but it was pretty clear what she meant.

“Move over. Let’s try something.” She was too surprised and curious to resist. She scooted to the middle of the bed and watched as he climbed in next to her, leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out. “Now, you lay down and get comfortable.”

“Rafael, you’re sweet, but really, I won’t be able to sleep…”

“Pretty sure no one else on the planet would call me ‘sweet’. Also, shut up. We’re doing an experiment. Lay down.”

Again, she did what he asked more from curiosity than anything sense that he could magically help her relax enough to sleep. She lay on her side, turned toward him, and adjusted her pillow until she was comfortable. She was fairly amused to find herself being ordered around in her own bed by A.D.A. Barba. “Now what?” She asked.

“Now you try to relax while I keep watch.”

“Keep watch… What, just you’re going to sit here all night and watch over me?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Don’t you sleep?”

“I shudder to think what they’re teaching young nurses at Northwestern. Of course I sleep. But it’s Friday. I’ll sleep tomorrow.”

“Really, I’ll be fine as soon as the sun comes up…”

He looked down at her with a stern expression. “Detective. Stop. Your job is to relax and see if you can close your eyes a little.”

She sighed, readjusted her position a little, and tried to relax. A moment later, Rafael started to hum. She wasn’t sure he realized he was doing it, and was so intrigued that she didn’t say anything. Soon, he began quietly singing a song in Spanish. She smiled into her pillow, and listened to him.

“What is that?” She asked drowsily after he had been softly crooning for a while.

“Cuban lullaby. _Mi abuelita_[2] used to sing it to me.” 

“It’s lovely. You have a beautiful voice,” she murmured.

“_Cállate_,”[3] he whispered, and resumed his lullaby. 

Laura awoke to the sound of her alarm and reached out blindly to hit the snooze button. Instead, her hand landed on something soft and warm. She opened her eyes to see Rafael Barba asleep next to her, sitting upright against the headboard. He made a soft noise, but didn’t immediately wake up.

She sat up and reached across him to turn off her alarm. No way she was going to fall back to sleep now. Suddenly, it hit her that she had been asleep. For the first time since the attack, she had fallen back to sleep after having a nightmare. 

She looked at Rafael and saw that, although his head was still laid back against the headboard, his eyes were open. “Good morning, Detective,” he said sleepily.

“I slept,” she said incredulously.

“I know. You snore.”

“Rafael, I _slept_. I’ve never been able to close my eyes after I had one of those nightmares. I didn’t just close my eyes. I slept.” Tears formed in her eyes. 

“The power of Cuban lullabies.” He muttered, closing his eyes again. The barest hint of a smirk twisted his lips.

Laura simply sat there for a moment, considering. “You were singing. I think could close my eyes because as long as I could hear you singing, that meant everything was OK.” 

“That, or _mi abuelita_ is magic. Don’t you need to go to work?”

She touched him on the hand. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, still with his eyes closed.

She couldn’t help it. She was so full of emotions – gratitude, relief, affection – she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He opened his eyes in time to see a tear fall from her eye to the sheets. “I don’t think you have any idea how much it means to me, what you did.”

He gently put out a hand to caress her cheek. “That’s what friends are for.”

They spent a quiet moment simply looking into one another’s eyes before she got up and went into the bathroom to shower. When she came back out, he was gone.

Late that afternoon, Rafael sat staring at a series of appalling photographs on his computer screen. There was some kind of a basement or cellar with a dirt floor and blood everywhere, some of it actually dripping down the walls. Everything in the room - rags on the floor, a stack of broken pallets, scattered and crushed boxes – was bloody. The body of a man with torn, bloody clothes lay on its back.

Something terrible had happened in that room. 

And there were ghastly pictures of a woman with horrific injuries. Her face was a mess. Her eyes were swollen shut, she was covered with bruises and cuts, and her mouth was a bloody mess with several teeth missing. Her body was equally injured. She had two obviously broken fingers on her left hand, and bruises and lacerations covering her body. Her left thigh had a displaced fracture that made him sick to look at.

Rafael could only look at the pictures for a few seconds at a time. Each picture hit him like a blow. Having seen any number of gruesome crime scene photos, he was fairly immune to them by now. But this had been Laura. At least, that was what the medical report said. He wouldn’t have known that from the photos. 

The medical report contained the longest list of injuries Rafael had ever seen. Her skull had been fractured in two places; three, if you counted the fractured orbital socket. Her jaw had been broken and five of her front teeth knocked out. Three of her fingers, her left wrist and forearm, four ribs and her right femur were broken. She had multiple internal injuries.

_¡Joder!_[4] No wonder she had nightmares. He was probably going to have nightmares just from the pictures. How the hell had she survived? There were no weapons in the room; how had she killed her attacker?

The police report answered that question. _Querido Jesus y Santa Maria_.[5] She had crushed his larynx with her bare right hand. He had beaten her to a bloody pulp. She had defended herself as best she could, fiercely trying to get to the door and escape, but in the end he’d injured her too badly to be able to get away from him, so she had done the only thing she could. She had latched onto his throat and hung on, literally for her life, digging her fingernails in, squeezing and twisting until the bastard died. Rafael crossed himself. He now wished he hadn’t called in a favor to obtain the police report. 

When Laura texted Rafael that evening to thank him again for what he’d done for her the night before, he took the opportunity to invite himself down to her apartment. He tried to sound casual; he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable about what he had seen the night before. He wanted her to know she could trust him. But he really needed to see her for himself, whole and healthy, after the horrific photos he had seen of what had been done to her. 

She didn’t try to gloss over what had happened. She was in running gear, and said she’d just come in from doing ten miles. She didn’t usually run that far, she said, but she wanted to be exhausted so that she would sleep, hopefully without dreaming. Not knowing what to say, he simply made a noncommittal noise and nodded. 

“You’re quiet, Rafael Barba. Said no one ever.”

“Am I? I don’t mean to be. But I do have something to tell you.”

She whirled around, instantly guessing what it was. “What did you do?” she asked, her voice suddenly low and threatening. 

“I know what happened to you.” He hoped his tone carried nothing but kindness.

“You prying bastard!” She shouted. “I told you it was none of your fucking business!”

“I didn’t do it to invade your privacy. I did it so I could help…”

“Bullshit! You did it because you were curious. No more, and no less.” She stalked furiously into the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

Rafael was used to dealing with people whose tempers were flaring. He didn’t appreciate Laura’s accusation, but it wouldn’t do any good to feed into her anger. “Laura, what you went through is unspeakable.”

She took a very long drink. “I thought you said I could trust you. Doesn’t look like I can, does it?” Her words were cruel, but her tone contained less acid than it had.

“That’s unfair. I’m trying to be your friend.”

“Fuck!” She spat, not at Rafael but simply to release some of what she was feeling. She turned her back on him and stepped to the window, pretending to look out as she tried to gain control of her anger at Rafael, at that bastard in Chicago, and at the entire situation.

It was several minutes before she spoke again. Rafael simply stood and waited her out.

“Well, now you know.” She said.

“Am I allowed to tell you how much I hate what happened to you?”

She gave a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, that makes two of us.”

Again, she was silent as she looked out the window. Finally, she turned slowly around and leaned against the wall. “So? What do you want to know?”

“Nothing you don’t want to tell me.” 

“It was my fault. I was an idiot. A stupid, overconfident moron. I knew there was a serial rapist and killer out there, and I thought because I’d been through the police academy, I was immortal. I had no idea he was there until it was too late.”

“And he grabbed you from behind, like Cristano did.”

“Swung me around and hit me so hard I saw God. They found most of my teeth right there on the sidewalk.”

“_¡Joder!_” Rafael hissed. 

“Yeah. I must’ve been knocked out for a minute, because the next thing I know, he’s dumping me in the dirt.” 

“And then it was on.”

“And then it was on.” She made a disgusted sound. “I was like a baby trying to fight a lion. Flailing and scratching like an idiot. I thought I was some badass cop. Turned out I couldn’t do shit to defend myself.”

“Laura, you survived. You did fine.”

She slid her back down the wall so she was squatting under the window. She looked down at the floor. “You know… what I did,” she mumbled.

“How he died? I know.”

She looked up with irritation. “Aren’t you going to say, ‘Good for you?’ ‘Bastard deserved it?’ ‘You’re a hero?’” Her tone of voice was mocking as she said those phrases.

“Wasn’t planning to.” Rafael sat down on the couch, across the room from Laura, but where they could see and hear one another. 

She sighed. “I’m sorry for being such a bitch.”

“You’re not a bitch. You’re my friend, who was viciously attacked.”

“And couldn’t fight back.”

“And _did_ fight back. And it wasn’t your fault.”

Laura squeezed her eyes closed. “So my shrink made me say about a million times.”

“What happened with Cristano makes a lot more sense now. Actually, a lot of things make more sense.”

“Doesn’t take a rocket scientist. Cristano grabbed me just like… before. I reacted.”

“I always wondered why you were so focused on… what’s it called?”

“Krav maga. And that’s exactly why. I’m not the girl in that room anymore. I may be messed up, but I made sure if you want to kick my ass, you’ll have to work a little harder these days.” 

”_Mierda_,[6] Laura, I wouldn’t call you messed up. I don’t know how you’re doing as well as you are. I don’t have that kind of guts.”

Laura actually smiled fondly. “Neither do I. I had a metric crapton of help. I had a shrink and my A.A. sponsor, family and friends… But the one who carried me through it was my boyfriend, Greg. He’d been through something in Afghanistan, and he… got it. What happened sucks, but that part? Nothing but upside.”

“Except they told you it was a good thing you’d killed the guy.”

“Not my shrink or my boyfriend. Everyone else.” She looked over at him. “And not you. How come?”

“You know the answer to that, Detective,” Rafael said kindly. “This isn’t my first rodeo. That _cabrón_[7] put you in a kill or be killed situation. You didn’t choose to kill him.”

“Thank you.”

“This happened in Chicago – you have help here?”

“You know I have a sponsor. She knows. And I still Skype with my shrink in Chicago. Actually, I can’t wait to tell him I learned a new way to deal with nightmares from my neighbor, the singing D.A.” 

Rafael smirked. “Don’t forget to mention _mi abuelita_.”

[1] I’ll come with you.

[2] Grandmother

[3] Shut up.

[4] Fuck!

[5] Dear Jesus and Saint Mary

[6] Shit

[7] Bastard, asshole


	29. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba takes OC Laura Parker to a formal bar association function, and sparks (finally) fly. Rafael finally explains why he cannot get involved. With anyone.

Fin and Laura sat watching nothing from the confines of their unmarked car. There was no activity at the run-down brick house across the street, and hadn’t been since they’d begun this shift five hours ago. Laura squirmed around to change her position. Fin looked over at her.

“You got something on your mind. Might as well tell me, we got nothing else to do.”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s man problems, that’s how.”

Fin rolled his eyes. “You’re right. I don’t wanna know.”

Laura threw up a hand. 

Ten silent, event-free minutes later, Fin sighed and said, “All right, all right, your man problems will at least be amusing. Spill before I die of boredom.”

“I’m not here for your amusement. Entertain yourself.”

“Whatever.”

Another ten minutes of absolute silence and lack of activity on the street followed. Fin turned to look at Laura once again, raising an eyebrow.

“OK, so there’s a guy. I’m really into him, and I think he likes me, too – he acts like he does, but… I don’t know. I’ve given him a million signals, but he… he just doesn’t respond. He texts, he calls, he comes over, but he never makes a move. Normally, I’d just jump him and see what happens, but this guy…”

“This guy what?”

“I told you, I’m really into him. I care what he thinks. If he’s not into me, I’ll get over it, but I don’t want to lose him as a friend.”

“Bulllshit. You’re scared,” Fin laughed.

“Terrified,” Laura agreed. 

“White people,” Fin groaned. “Look, you said this guy acts like he’s into you, right?”

“Up to a point, yeah…”

“OK, so, he obviously likes you. I’m a man, if some woman I like makes a play for me, I’mma be flattered, even if I’m not into her. I’m gonna be cool about it, let her down easy. Never mention it again.”

“So you think I should make an unmistakeable move.”

“Yeah. Just corner Barba and plant one on him.”

“What makes you think –“

Fin silenced her with a look. “Don’t even with me.”

Laura sputtered for a second, but realized the futility of argument. 

“And I’ll tell you something else. You better do it somewhere private. Dude’s gonna respond. Bigtime.”

“You don’t know that.”

Fin made a disgusted sound. “Right.”

********

Rafael walked into the breakroom just as Laura grabbed her soda from the tray of the vending machine. 

“Hey,” she said, smiling at him.

“Detective.” He looked a little odd. She held the door to the squad room open and stepped aside for him, thinking that he was on his way to see Lieutenant Benson.

“Actually, I came over to ask you something.” 

“Oh,” she said, letting the door fall back closed. “What’s up?”

Rafael changed his briefcase from one hand to the other. “I need a favor.” 

“Name it.” 

“The Bar Association holds this annual torture carnival fiendishly disguised as an awards dinner. The worst possible food, lots of irritating people in garish outfits, monotonous speeches. Basically purgatory with a no-host bar.”

“Uh-huh. And you’d like me to arrest you so you don’t have to go.”

“Kind of you to offer, and I’d take you up on it, but this year I drew the short straw. They make sure there’s at least one senior A.D.A. at our office’s table, and McCoy’s just informed me that I’m this year’s martyr.” He stopped and looked pleadingly at her, dropping his voice. “I’m hoping I can talk you into coming with me. I need someone to make snarky comments with so I don’t end up in a rubber room. Or locked up.” He quickly followed up with, “It doesn’t have to be a date. More like… backup.”

“Sounds awful.”

“I promise, it will be.”

Laura smiled. “What should I wear?”

Rafael beamed back at her. 

******

Laura was annoyed with herself. He’d said that it wasn’t a date, and she wasn’t going to try to turn it into one. Their unexpected friendship had become too important to her. She was not going to do anything to jeopardize it, including take Fin’s advice and just kiss Rafael. So they would be dressed up. Otherwise, it would be no different than eating dim sum in front of a Fast & Furious movie on her couch. Right?

Still… she was dangerously attracted to Rafael. No matter how resolutely he maintained his distance, his deep green eyes and sexy smirks still struck her mind momentarily blank. And it wasn’t just physical. She responded so strongly to his dry, sardonic humor that she found herself looking forward to seeing him just to hear what he would say. So the idea of spending an evening with him, dressed in evening clothes, just the two of them against everyone else at the bar association dinner, was intoxicating.

She removed her curling iron from the last tendril of hair artfully pulled from the bun in her hair, scoffing at the irony of spending this kind of time creating the trendy “messy” look. She grumbled as she again questioned her makeup choices and tried to determine how much perfume was enticing without overdoing it. She tried to tell herself she was just irritated by the difficulties of trying to prepare for an evening out, but in truth she was nervous. Date or not, it mattered that Rafael thought she looked – and smelled - good. Finally, she was ready to drop her gorgeous new dress over her head and strap on her new heels. 

Rafael could not believe he was even thinking about his hair. He had work hair and not-work hair. No thought, no choices. Yet here he was. He didn’t allow himself to consider the thought in the back of his mind that the real question was which Laura preferred. Finally, he decided that this event was work, so work hair it was. 

When Laura opened her door, Rafael literally caught his breath. Until that moment, he had thought that was a cliché. Now he knew better. She looked so gorgeous he had actually almost gasped. She was wearing her hair in a way he’d never seen; not the businesslike bun or ponytail she wore at work, or the haphazard knot she sometimes wore at home. It reminded him of the way a woman’s hair got messed up in bed… better not to think about that. Her dress, too, was different than anything he’d ever seen her wear. It was a floor-length sheath in a clingy mauve material with the slightest sparkle, with a trail of twisted fabric draped enticingly across her neck and right upper arm, and tiny straps that left her shoulders and arms bare. The skirt flared just enough from the knees down to swish beguilingly. It accentuated everything he appreciated about her body.

“You, um… wow.” 

“Wow?” Laura smiled.

“Yeah. Going with ‘wow’.” 

Laura felt almost shy. Rafael looked elegant and rakish (yes, she suddenly realized, that was a real thing). Something about the way he stood comfortably in his tuxedo, looking at her like a man looks at a woman, made her feel clumsy and tongue-tied. He seemed suddenly so urbane and sophisticated, she felt like a gawky teenager.

“Well, you look like James Bond’s hotter American cousin.”

Rafael’s smile of genuine pleasure touched her heart.

He put his hand on the small of her back as they stepped out the door into the street. She shivered at the touch. Rafael guided her to the car waiting to take them to the hotel where the dinner was being held. He saw her notice that it was a town car, rather than simply an Uber or taxi. He smiled. It had been a strange impulse to spoil her that he was now very glad he’d indulged.

When the car pulled into the semi-circular portico built into the ground floor of the hotel, people in evening dress were arriving in limousines, taxis, and private vehicles. Rafael and Laura could see more glamorous people milling around in the lobby behind a glass wall. 

Rafael stepped out of the car and held his hand out to Laura. She took it, feeling like Cinderella on the way to a particularly businesslike ball. She noticed with pleasure that he kept her hand in his as they began to walk toward the doors, shoulder to shoulder. 

“You ready for this?” He asked, leaning into her.

“Nope.”

“Me, neither.”

“Stick close. I’ll cover you,” she said, leaning back into him, and squeezing his hand.

Rafael knew everyone. It took half an hour to work their way across the lobby to the ballroom where the event was taking place, greeting and being greeted by lawyers and judges. Laura knew some of the people they spoke to, most she didn’t. She was impressed to find that Rafael was always attentive, asking her each time whether she knew the people they spoke with and introducing her when she didn’t. 

Laura found herself hiding a smile on several occasions. Rafael made comments to a number of people which, on their face, seemed innocuous, but which she knew were not. Clearly, the objects of the comments didn’t know that, which made her feel like she and Rafael were sharing a secret. It felt intimate. As they moved from one encounter to the next, one of them would often lean toward the other and whisper a private comment about the people they’d been talking to.

Defense attorney Roger Kressler and his 20-year-old wife were the last to greet them before they made it into the ballroom. “Mr. Barba, I believe that’s the only intelligent thing I’ve ever seen you do.” 

“What’s that, Mr. Kressler?” Rafael asked, his lips twisted in anticipation of an insult.

“Bringing a police detective as your date. She can protect you from the many, many people here who may want to do you harm.”

Rafael put an arm around Laura. “I’m kind of hoping she has to. I’d love to get a look at that thigh holster I’ve heard about.”

“Just so you know,” Laura said over her shoulder as he led her around the Kresslers and into the ballroom. “’You’re on your own.” She winked at Kressler.

“Thigh holster?” She whispered to Rafael.

“_No rompas mis sueños._”[1]

They settled at their assigned table and spent some time meeting the others from the D.A.’s office and their dates. Introductions soon gave way to shop talk for the few moments before the program began.

Rafael hadn’t lied about the bad food. The Governor gave a short, canned welcome speech and the first several awards were presented while the guests were served a dinner of bland, lukewarm chicken. Throughout dinner, Rafael and Laura spoke quietly in Spanish, trying their best to make each other laugh. 

Soon after dessert was over, Rafael and Laura scooted their chairs so that they were facing the dais directly. They sat as close together as they could so that they could continue to share snarky remarks about the speeches. Rafael laid his arm across the back of Laura’s chair, which made it difficult for him not to run his fingertips over her bare shoulder. Laura wished he would. 

Hours later, when the awards program had mercifully ended and some couples were taking advantage of the music playing and a small dance floor that had been set up, Laura and Rafael sat together near the table, their chairs half-turned toward one another. They sipped surprisingly good coffee and talked about any number of things, forgetting where they were for long stretches of time. Occasionally, during breaks in the conversation, they watched the crowd. 

“You’re a nurse, right? Your CPR card up to date?” He asked Laura, over the music.

“Worried about Buchanan?” 

“I am. I don’t think he’s done that much dancing since his disco days.”

“Which is apparently a good thing.”

Rafael shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s got some moves. And you have to admire his pluck. Not everyone would have the boldness to do… that… in public.”

They shared a look and a laugh.

Rafael leaned back in his chair, looking at Laura with a bemused expression on his face. “I just realized something.”

“Which is?”

“It’s after 10 p.m., which means this wretched ordeal has been ongoing for over four hours and I haven’t wanted to kill myself once.” He smiled and held up his cup to her in a toast. “Congratulations, Detective, you have performed a miracle.”

“Mission accomplished,” she smiled, and clinked her coffee cup with his.

“I actually think we can safely escape, if you want to. Half our table has already bailed.”

She looked around the room, pondering his suggestion. She didn’t want her evening out with Rafael to end. Returning her gaze to him with a coy expression, she said, “Except for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You haven’t asked me to dance yet.”

His eyes smouldered. For the past hour, he had been trying to find a way to suggest that they dance, without betraying how much he really just wanted to take her in his arms. He grinned and offered her his hand. “Detective Parker, may I have this dance?”

“I’d love to.”

They made their way, hand in hand, to the dance floor where several couples had just taken their places. The song was a fairly good cover of the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody”, which gave Rafael the opportunity to hold Laura close, as he’d been aching to do all evening. They found that they fit together comfortably; their heights allowed them to make quiet comments to one another without being overheard, which lent an increased intimacy to the moment. Laura felt her body reacting to Rafael’s embrace. She could smell his subtle cologne, something clean with a hint of musk that made her want to nuzzle his neck. As she fought the urge to pull him tightly against her, she wondered how closely she could appropriately hold him. 

Rafael was wrestling with the same urge. He could think of nothing but how good her body felt where his arms encircled her. Without consciously planning to, he turned his head to whisper into her ear.

“I’m glad you agreed to endure this with me. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” she whispered back.

They slowly danced, neither focused in the slightest on their surroundings, enjoying being so close. Rafael felt Laura give the slightest shake of her head.

“What?” He asked, turning his head and pulling away from her a bit so he could look into her face.

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s… inappropriate.”

“I love inappropriate. Tell me.”

She looked uncomfortable. “I was just thinking that… you smell amazing.” She looked away from his eyes.

He grinned, ridiculously pleased by her comment. “In that case,” he began, in a voice that sent shivers through Laura. “I will tell you that I’ve been spellbound all night by the way you look in that dress.”

She inhaled and looked up at him. He pulled her closer, looking down into her eyes. “There,” he murmured in a bedroom purr. “Now we’re both inappropriate.”

They danced slowly, looking into one another’s eyes, suddenly past all pretense.

“You know,” he said huskily, “I said this didn’t have to be a date, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be.”

Laura pulled him a bit closer, finally giving in to the desire to melt her body into his. “I vote date,” she murmured.

“It’s unanimous.” 

He slowly began to lower his head as she tipped her face up to his. At the last moment, they simultaneously realized what they were about to do in front of half the New York Bar. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Rafael whispered.

“Let’s,” Laura agreed.

They said nothing as they collected Laura’s wrap and evening bag and walked, hand in hand, out to the hotel entrance. The attendants motioned to the next cab in line, and they slid into the back seat. Rafael put his arm around Laura, and she nestled into him. Both were breathing a bit harder than normal, their hearts beating faster in anticipation of what might happen. They were uncharacteristically quiet.

“That was fun,” Laura finally tried, looking up at him in hopes that he would take the opportunity to kiss her. 

He didn’t. Instead, he laughed. “Said no one, ever, about that particular event.” 

“Well, I had fun.”

He squeezed her and she snuggled closer to him. “I did, too,” he said quietly, kissing her on the top of her head. “I knew if there was anyone who could make that bearable, it was you. I should have known you’d do better than that.”

Again she pulled away slightly to look up at him. “Yeah?”

He skipped a beat. “Yeah,” he whispered, and tilted down to brush her lips softly with his. She wondered whether he was feeling the same rush of sensual heat from just that small, brief kiss. He was. 

He held her hand on the way into their building, then put his hand on her back after holding the door for her. They walked across the lobby, entered the elevator, and rode, silently, to her floor, holding hands and standing more closely than they ever had when riding together in the past. As Rafael followed her to her door and into her apartment, Laura thought he might be able to hear her heart hammering in her chest. 

As soon as she’d closed the door behind them, she turned to him.

“We didn’t finish our dance.”

The invitation in her voice was clear. “We can finish it now,” he said huskily. 

There, just inside her apartment door, he put one arm around her waist and took hold of her hand in his. She rested her arm on his shoulder, her hand tantalizingly close to the bare skin on the back of his neck. He began to sway his hips, moving his feet to lead her in a small circle. Through her unease about making a move on him, she noticed two things: first, that he was a good dancer, and second, that moving with him felt very nice. 

They hadn’t turned on any lights; they were lit only by the glow of the city coming in through the windows. They enjoyed a few moments together before she met his eyes in the dimness, took a breath, and asked, “Hypothetically, what if I said I wanted to kiss you?”

“I’d let you.” He didn’t look away from her eyes, and didn’t stop leading her in a slow, sexy dance.

“Let me.” Laura’s soft voice held a note of disappointment, although she moved a bit closer to him. “Like, just to be polite? Because if you’d let me kiss you just to be polite, I’m not going to kiss you.”

His voice dropped to a throaty purr. “Well, there would be other reasons, too.” 

“So you would kiss me back?”

“Definitely.”

“Definitely? That’s pretty good,” she grinned, turning her face up to his but not moving to kiss him.

Rafael smirked wryly down at Laura. “Why are we having a hypothetical conversation about kissing? Why aren’t we just kissing?”

“Because I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me for a long time. And you keep… not kissing me. I didn’t know if that was because you didn’t want to and I didn’t want to kiss you if you didn’t want me to.”

Rafael furrowed his brow. “I want you to.”

“Are you sure? Because I want to, but I don’t want things to be weird.”

“Laura, _this conversation_ is weird,” he almost whispered, their lips now close enough to feel one another’s breath as they spoke. “Just kiss me.”

“Really?” 

“_Por Dios_…”[2]

She lifted her chin and gently pressed her lips to his, moving them softly and slowly. He immediately tightened his arms, pressing her body to his. At first, he kissed her tentatively, but that didn’t last. Their embrace became more intimate as they concentrated on learning one another’s lips, tasting one another for the first time. Somehow, this first kiss felt like a conversation – a confirmation of what they both knew they felt, and an ecstatic acknowledgement that something wonderful was happening between them.

They forgot to keep dancing as their kisses lengthened and deepened. Laura knew immediately that she was in the hands of an expert. After a few moments of skillful, progressively more intimate exploration of her lips, she felt him use the tip of his tongue to tease her lips apart. With a small gasp that went straight to Rafael’s groin, she opened her mouth to him. 

Rafael could feel himself already getting hard. His mind was having trouble accepting that he actually had Laura in his arms and that it was her tongue dancing with his, but his body knew. She was almost breathless. He tasted so good, and his body felt so much better than she’d imagined, that she found herself becoming dizzy with desire and holding on to him to stay standing. 

“I can’t believe it,” she panted. “My knees actually feel weak. That’s really a thing.”

He chuckled, smoothing his hand over her hair and pulling her mouth back to his. Their kisses became instantly more intense.

Until he stopped. Laura was pretty sure there wasn’t actually the loud screech of tires resounding through her apartment, but she heard that deafening sound nonetheless.

He let go of her and turned toward the living room, taking a few steps away and trying to regain control of his breathing. “I can’t think when you’re close to me.” 

She didn’t know what to make of any of this. Breathless and awash in hormones, she was more than a little confused by his abrupt withdrawal. Slowly, she moved past him to drop her wrap and purse on the nearest chair, then turned to him in the dimness. She just waited, standing a few feet from him.

He ran a hand through his hair, dismayed and trying to find a way to express what he needed her to know.

“You know I was married,” he began.

“You told me.”

“It was… bad.”

“You said that, too.”

He stepped back toward her and took both her hands in his. “The things you told me, about how the attack permanently changed you… I’m not comparing my divorce to what happened to you, but… I recognized that. I’m like that.”

She didn’t know what to say, and didn’t want to do anything that might stop him when he was finally giving her the answers she’d been trying so hard to find.

“Can we just… sit and talk?” He led her to the couch and sat down facing her, their knees touching and her hands still in his. The darkness made it easier for him; he didn’t want her to see his shame and pain. But he owed her the truth.

“What happened?” Laura’s voice, soft and low, held warmth and compassion.

“Her name was Anatalia. I was only twenty-five when we got married, but I don’t think it would have mattered how old I was.”

He struggled with what to say next. As a result of whatever had happened to him, he had become a man who didn’t share any more than he absolutely had to. Laura understood that. She was not going to be able to rush him, and the obvious depth of his wounds made her want to protect him, rather than do anything that would make it worse. What had this woman done to Rafael? She felt a profound, possessive anger that anyone could, or would, hurt this man. She waited, trying to be patient until, all at once, words began to spill from him.

“I thought it was forever. I meant it to be forever. And I felt that way until the day she served me with divorce papers. By then, it was hell; she didn’t even try to hide her affairs, or the utter disregard she had for me. But I thought I was supposed to stay in hell because I’d made vows. So that day, when I got the papers, I went home to confront her. You heard that right – we still lived together. I’d been sleeping on the couch for a year, but there I was… still trying to be married. I came into our bedroom – her bedroom, I guess - crying and begging her to try one more time, and she laughed at me. Laughed. She couldn’t have cared less about vows, or forever. Or me. She never had. The only reason she was bothering with a divorce was that one of her boyfriends had proposed, and he had a lot of money. She told me all of that, in so many words.”

“Oh, my God.”

“I loved her completely. She was my whole world, and I had trusted her with everything I was. I had given her everything, all of me. And in that moment, I finally saw that she had never had anything but contempt for any of it. Nothing about me had any value to her whatsoever. That moment… broke me, Laura.”

“Rafael… I’m so sorry.”

“I swore in that moment that I was done with anything having to do with trust, or love. Permanently. I’m like you. The same way you’ve lived your life to make sure you never go back into that room with the dirt floor, I’ve lived mine so I never go back into that bedroom where I got my guts ripped out. Does that make sense?”

She nodded. “Of course it does.”

“That’s why, as much as I’d love to, I can’t get involved with you.”

His words hung between them, so final and necessary to him, so understandable but flawed to her.

“I was with you until right then.”

“I’m not negotiating here. I’m just telling you how it is.” He let go of her hands.

She took her time framing her response. “I respect that. Of all people, I get having a moment in your life that you will do anything never to repeat. I have several. And I understand doing whatever it takes.”

“Exactly. So do me a favor. Whatever ‘buts’ you’re about to give me, please don’t.”

She smiled at him in the dim light. “I think you know me better than to think I’m going to be able to do that. Don’t you?”

He sighed, just the barest hint of an upward tilt of his lips giving her permission to continue. 

“If I told you that my only option to avoid what happened to me is never to go outside again, you wouldn’t agree, would you?”

“That’s a false equivalency.”

“No. It’s exactly the same. And it’s no more necessary for you to become a hermit than it is for me to. It was. I absolutely understand that, for a long time, that was necessary for you. But I don’t think it is anymore.”

The look on his face was halfway between anger and some kind of terrified hope. “I disagree.”

“Are you sure? Because you let me in a little. And so far, you’re OK. Right?”

He sighed deeply. “I didn’t mean to let you in at all. But the usual rules don’t seem to apply to you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m kinda known for that.” 

“Laura, I have those rules for a reason.”

“I hear you. I do. I understand and I respect that. I’m not asking you to get rid of your rules, or do anything you don’t want to do. But couldn’t we maybe just stay where we are for now? We’re already friends. And if that’s it, then it’s enough. But what I’m thinking is, if you just let me hang out with you some more, you’ll see that I’ll keep on… not ripping your guts out. And then you’ll get so used to me not ripping your guts out, pretty soon you’ll learn that I’m not going to. You’ll forget you didn’t trust me. And you’ll just start trusting me because… osmosis.”

“I don’t think that’s how osmosis works.”

“Shut up, Harvard. It’s science.” 

He shook his head, chuffing just a little. “Damn it, Laura…”

He reached for her and they held one another as best they could while sitting side by side. 

“I need time. Probably a lot of time. Can we just leave it at that for tonight?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him. “But can I say one more thing?”

“One.”

“That woman? She was dead wrong. About everything. And if you let me, I’ll prove it to you.”

[1] Don’t crush my dreams.

[2] For God’s sake…


	30. Someone To Watch Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba is getting credible death threats and OC Laura Parker is determined to protect him. Things get romantic in the safe house.

Rafael had received death threats before. Usually there wasn’t much reason to worry - some lowlife he’d convicted who was just spouting off because they’d gotten caught. This was different. These people had actually hired someone to threaten him in person, to show him that they could get to him whenever they wanted. And “these people” were cops. So, in order to fight fire with fire, he’d swallowed his pride and asked the SVU squad to meet him here in his office.

He hated the conversation he was having right this minute. Asking for help was below dental work on his list of favorite things to do. But he was comforted by a couple of things. The first was that, as soon as he’d asked for it, help was sitting on the other side of his desk. In fact, in Carisi’s case, it was sitting on his side of his desk, glowering down at him like a gargoyle. The second was that he’d been in this position once before, and he’d come out the other side with his life, career, and pride intact. 

“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Carisi asked.

“I’m telling you now.” 

“I’m calling Intelligence, getting you a protective detail,” Rollins announced, taking her phone from her pocket.

“Is there someone there you trust? The threats started when I indicted the three cops who killed Terence Reynolds.” Rafael’s expression was a tense mix of anger, fear, and annoyance. 

Carisi, Rollins, Fin, and Laura exchanged disgusted looks. Nobody wanted to think cops would be involved in threatening a D.A. 

“We trust me,” Laura declared, quietly but firmly. “I’m taking this detail.” 

Her teammates knew Parker wasn’t asking or suggesting. 

“I’m calling Liv,” Rollins said.

“Tell her I’ve got him until this is over.” 

Carisi turned his head toward Parker and Fin as Rollins began speaking quietly on the phone. 

“We’re gonna need a plan. How we gonna get him out of here?” 

“With a lot of help,” Fin answered.

“Can we not talk about me like I’m contraband?” Apparently, annoyance was winning out over anger and fear. The cops weren’t surprised. Barba was realistic about needing protection, but cocky enough not to allow himself to be intimidated by threats. Although Laura knew him well enough to know that his question about who they could trust had not been an idle one.

Carisi and Rollins had gone back to the station to begin work on investigating the source of the threats. Once the car that would take Rafael to safety was in place on the ground floor of the garage, Laura, Fin, and two uniformed officers escorted Rafael out of his office to the stairs, all with weapons drawn. He wouldn’t admit to feeling relieved by the presence of so many cops, but he felt free to complain about the discomfort of the bulletproof vest and his sense that they were wildly overreacting. Fin and Laura paid just enough attention to enjoy the show. They weren’t about to do less than their utmost to protect him. 

Laura took point as they entered the stairwell, checking up and down the stairs before she would allow Fin to enter with Rafael, with the uniforms covering the rear. They made Rafael stay next to the wall, with the four of them surrounding him. Laura checked up and down again at each turn of the stairs, and at each floor, the uniforms would cover him behind the door as she and Fin would go high and low to make certain nobody was waiting to come through the door. 

They reached the ground floor. Again they put Rafael in the corner behind the door with the uniforms between him and danger while Laura and Fin checked the door. The unmarked squad was there, where it was supposed to be, with a uniform at the wheel. But Laura pulled Fin back by his collar and slammed the door. 

“I’m not good with this. I don’t know that guy. Do you?”

“No. Let’s go back up and then we’ll check it out.”

In the same manner they’d gone down, they went back up a floor. While the uniformed officers and Fin protected Rafael in the stairwell, Laura checked out the floor and found an office where they could keep him safe until they could figure out how a stranger had ended up driving the car. 

Rolling his eyes, Rafael muttered, “This is ridiculous,” as they moved him up the stairs and into the office. 

Fin looked Laura in the eye. A silent message, clear as speech, passed between them. “I’mma send Fredrickson down there to check it out,” he said.

One of the uniforms said, “Yeah, sure, I’ll go find out who he is.” He moved past Fin out the door, holstering his weapon. 

As soon as the door closed, Laura pulled out her cell and pushed a button. “Carmen. Laura. I need a favor.” 

When Officer Fredrickson returned to the office, it was empty. He swore viciously and pulled out his cell phone. 

Two uniformed officers and a male/female plainclothes pair led a dark-haired man in a suit from the stairwell to the unmarked squad car, moving at a dead sprint. The man dove to the floor of the back seat, the female detective throwing a blanket over him and covering him with her body. The uniforms slammed the back door, the male detective jumped into the passenger seat, and the car sped from the garage. 

For the first three blocks, the drive was stressful, but uneventful. At that point, Fin looked at the officer driving the car. “So what’s your name, dude? We haven’t met before.” 

At that moment, as the squad crossed on a yellow light, a rusty red pick-up truck T-boned it from the passenger side, going at least forty miles an hour. But for the fact that the unmarked squad car was going just above the speed limit, the overwhelming damage to the car would have been just at the spot where Fin sat. As it was, the frame was too bent and the car’s body too mangled to allow Fin to open his door when four men came running from two cars parked on the street to surround the squad. It wouldn’t have made any difference. The driver had already pulled his gun on Fin.

The men on the driver’s side of the car tried to pull the door open. Both had guns in their hands. The door, however, wouldn’t open due to the damage to the frame, and when the man in the suit looked up through the broken window, they saw that it wasn’t Barba. It was some ginger dude in a wig that had slid to one side from the impact. The female “detective” was also someone they had never seen, and she, too, was wearing a wig. When they realized what had happened, the men outside the car split up and ran in separate directions as the fake cop in the front seat tried to open his door to escape with them. 

Fin was too fast for him. He had the guy before he could do more than get one leg out and shift his weight to it. As a result, the fake cop fell out of the car onto the street, one hand cuffed, with Fin on top of him. As soon as he had both hands cuffed, Fin left him lying there to assist the decoys in the back seat.

“This is a sweet ride,” Laura commented into her bluetooth as she drove the pristine SUV as unobtrusively as possible through the city. “You’re paying Carmen too much.”

“Not possible,” Rafael said, his voice coming through the earpiece, but also in a muffled echo from the back of Carmen’s Acura. They used their phones because they needed to be able to communicate if something went wrong, and wouldn’t have been able to otherwise.

“You doing OK back there?” 

“Living the dream.” Rafael grumbled. Laura smiled because she knew he couldn’t see her from where he was. But she knew he had to be uncomfortable and claustrophobic.

“Ten more minutes. Hang in there.” 

Liv opened the garage door of the safe house so that Laura could pull in. They waited until the door was closed again and they were sure no vehicles had followed them before opening the back gate and lifting the hatch so Rafael could climb out of the underfloor storage of Carmen’s SUV. Laura and Liv didn’t look at one another, for fear their faces would betray their amusement.

“Shut up, both of you,” Rafael snarled, brushing off his sweatpants as though they were the $3,000 suit he’d had to give to his decoy to wear.

“You’re welcome,” Laura smiled crookedly. Then she took a closer look at Liv. “Hey… what happened?”

Olivia allowed her scowl to deepen. “Fin and the decoys. You were right. The driver was in on it. They got T-boned at an intersection and four guys with guns surrounded the car. When they saw it wasn’t Barba, they split. Good news is, everybody’s OK and we got the driver.”

Rafael blanched and said nothing. Both Laura and Olivia noticed. 

“Hey,” Laura said, “Let’s go inside.”

“Not me,” Liv said. “I gotta get to the accident scene. You have your radio, and there’s no reason you wouldn’t be safe here. Nobody but the three of us know where you are. Just stay put and keep the curtains closed.”

Olivia left quickly. Laura and Rafael let themselves into the safe house and looked around a bit before settling at the kitchen table with bottles of water.

“You ok?” She asked quietly, putting a hand on his.

He didn’t look at her. “You were right. If you weren’t so impossible, we’d both be dead right now.” 

Laura wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. She didn’t want to add to his anxiety, but she also didn’t want to pretend the situation wasn’t serious. “Well, that’s a backhanded compliment.”

“I’m trying to thank you.” His voice was low.

“You suck at it. But anytime.” 

“I would really prefer this to be the last time.”

“Me, too. But if it’s not, we’ll have your back then, too.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I told you before, someone messes with you, they mess with me. And not just me. They mess with you, they take on the whole squad.”

They sat together, talking in low voices, for over an hour before Fin called. Laura put him on speaker. 

Before they could even ask, Fin said, “Look, everybody’s fine. I got a sore neck, but other than that I’m good to go. And I was right. That Fredrickson was no good. We got him and the driver in custody. They’ll talk.”

“Let us know when they do.”

“Until then, lay low. We’ll check in soon.”

“Thanks, Fin. And thanks for being the bait. Next time it’s my turn.” 

“No thanks, I’ll take a car crash and gun-wielding maniacs over babysittin’ Barba anyday.”

“Partner, you’re on speaker.”

“Yeah, I knew that.” Both Rafael and Laura could hear the smile in Fin’s voice before he hung up. 

Rafael and Laura looked at eachother across the table. For a moment, neither spoke. Rafael started with an expectant look on his face, then slowly morphed it into a question. Laura didn’t speak, just to see what he would do next. Eventually, they both laughed.

“So… what do we do now?” He finally asked.

“No idea.”

“What, you’ve never done this before?”

“No. But I’ve seen it on TV. I think we’re supposed to smoke a lot and play poker.”

“Neither of us smoke.”

“And I don’t know how to play poker.”

“What? Who doesn’t know how to play poker?” 

“I don’t.” 

“That’s just wrong.” Getting up to look into the cupboards and refrigerator, he said, “You find cards. I’ll find snacks.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I don’t know how to play.”

“I heard you. You’re about to learn. I can’t be seen being protected by a cop who doesn’t know how to play poker.” 

“All right, well, it’s not a day off for me. Lemme check things out again. I’ll be right back.” 

That evening, when Olivia and Fin made their way through the back yard from where they’d parked a few blocks away from the safe house, they heard what they initially thought was an argument. Reaching for their weapons, they ran, crouching, through the dark to the wall of the house. From under the kitchen window, they realized that what they were actually hearing was an animated conversation interspersed with rowdy laughter. 

“_Lo siento, pobrecita_[1], but a flush beats a straight.”

“Well, that’s stupid! A straight is harder. A flush doesn’t even have to be in order! I don’t think that can be right.”

“Google it.” 

“Shit. How much is that now?

“You owe me thirty-six thousand, four hundred dollars. It’s my deal. Now, try that phrase again.”

“_Vete a la mierda_,“ Laura cried gleefully.

“Better. And that means?”

“Loosely, it means go fuck yourself. I can’t wait to say it to Fin.” 

Laura’s phone rang.

“Now’s your chance,” Rafael noted, continuing to shuffle the cards.

After warning Laura that they were there, Olivia and Fin let themselves into the house through the back door.

“What’s with all the racket?” Fin asked.

“Rafael’s teaching me poker and obscene Spanish phrases.”

Olivia cocked an eyebrow. “Well, glad to hear you’ve put your time to good use while we’ve been out there fighting crime.”

“How’s the investigation going?” Rafael asked, worry coming back over him like a bucket of ice water.

Fin leaned against the kitchen counter while Olivia took a seat at the table. 

“It’s bigger than we thought,” she said. “That whole precinct is riddled with dirty cops. It’s taking some time, but we’re getting there. You were right to call us, Rafa. These people… they’re serious. They had a pretty big operation going. They would’ve done whatever they had to to protect it.”

“Terrific. How long to I have to stay here?”

“There’s your gratitude,” Laura humphed.

“We’re getting there, like I said.” Olivia continued. “Everyone’s clamoring to rat everyone else out. What they don’t know is that McCoy says there won’t be any leniency for any of them. But it’s going to be at least tomorrow before we round them all up. I don’t know if whoever’s still out there would see any point in getting to you now, but we’re not taking any chances. Which reminds me, Parker, your relief from Intelligence is on its way.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. They can come, the more the merrier. But I’m not leaving him.”

A pregnant silence hung in the room as each of them digested the meaning of what she had said, and what it meant that she’d said it. 

“Fine,” Olivia finally said. “I see no reason you need to leave when he gets here. But you’ve been on duty for long enough. Get some rest.”

“Copy that.”

Fin and Olivia stayed for a couple of hours. They deserved the break after locating, arresting, and questioning the many suspects in what had become a massive cleanup operation. At some point, they all cooperated to put together a dinner from the stocked cabinets and refrigerator, which gave the group the opportunity to discuss the situation and simply spend some time together. Eventually, however, Fin and Olivia took off to get back to work.

The cop assigned to protect Rafael arrived about fifteen minutes after Fin and Olivia left. When Laura explained that she wasn’t leaving, he shrugged it off. He knew that Rafael was assigned to SVU, and really wasn’t that interested, anyway. He was there to do a job. Laura was impressed with him. He was wiry and compact, and looked like he could give anyone trying to get to Rafael a hell of a hard time.

Rafael began to yawn as he and Laura companionably washed dishes together.

“You should go upstairs and get some sleep,” she suggested.

“Yeah,” he sighed wearily. “It’s been quite a day. But I doubt I’ll be doing any sleeping until I know there’s no one still out there looking to kill me.”

Laura let that comment go without making any of the many replies that went through her head. 

“You should get some rest, too. You’ve been on duty all day.”

“I’ve been playing poker with you most of the day. Not exactly hard duty.”

He turned to look at her, hands still in the soapy water. “Do you think I’m blind? Or that I don’t pay attention to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you constantly checking out every car that drives past, looking out between the curtains every ten seconds, going on alert every time you heard a noise.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah. That.” He handed her the last washed plate and pulled the stopper from the sink to drain the water. Drying his hands with a dish towel, he leaned against the counter looking down at her with a serious expression. “Thank you for saving my ass. Again.”

She reached up to set the now-dry plate into the cupboard over her head and closed the door. Turning to him, she said, “If someone wants to hurt you, they’ll have to get past me. You’re important to me.”

His face clouded over as he realized what she was telling him, although she hadn’t mentioned what he’d shared with her about his marriage. Without hugging or kissing her, as she’d hoped he would, Rafael stepped around Laura and headed for the hallway that led to the stairs. “I’m going to take your advice and find a bedroom. _Feliz noche_.”[2]

“_Dulces sueños_.”[3]

Laura stayed where she was for a moment, sighing and wondering how long she would have to wait for Rafael to be able to let her love him. Perfect. In order to be with the man I love, I have to learn patience. God has a mean streak.

Her eyes widened and her head snapped up as she realized what she’d just been thinking. Love. She was in love with Rafael Barba. 

Laura stayed downstairs for a while, chatting quietly with the Intelligence officer. She needed to give herself a chance to come down a little from her hyperalert state before she would have a chance of being sleepy. Besides, he was a cop she hadn’t met before, which made him interesting. 

An hour or so later, having run out of casual conversation and beginning to feel a little tired, she said good night to him and tiptoed up the stairs. There were three bedrooms, and she could see that the door of the first was pulled almost closed. She assumed that was the room Rafael had chosen. As quietly as she could, she stepped to the door, intending just to glance in at him and make sure all was well. She could see that he was stretched out on top of the covers, hands behind his head, fully clothed except for his shoes. She stepped back from the door and turned to go to the next bedroom.

“Laura.” Rafael’s scratchy, sleepy voice quietly stopped her.

She went back to his door. “You’re awake.”

“Everything OK down there?” 

“Yes. Go to sleep.”

“Laura… _ven acá_.”[4]

Hesitating, she said, “I’m good right here.” 

“You don’t want to come in?”

“I want to come in. It’s just… I’m not very, um…”

“What?”

She struggled to explain. “I… that kiss. That was, um, really great. You asked for time, and I’m trying to give it to you. So I think I’ll just stay over here, if you know what I mean.” 

“Are you saying you don’t trust yourself with me?”

“That’s what I’m saying. Yes.” 

His throaty chuckle, all by itself, was enough to make her wet. Good grief. What would it be like to actually be touched by him? 

“I’ll take my chances. _Ven acá_.”

She stepped into the room, crossing carefully in the near dark to sit on the side of the bed next to him. He put an arm across her legs, his hand splayed out on the side of her thigh. 

“I liked that kiss, too.”

She smiled. She considered her realization, just an hour before, that she was in love with him. Looking at him now, lying on the bed, just a bit rumpled, wearing sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt that didn’t belong to him, it hit her fully. She would wait for him forever. She would die for this man.

“Do you want to lie down with me?”

“Yes. Oh, hell yes,” she whispered, her voice full of what she was feeling. “But I’m not going to.” 

The teasing in his voice was tinged with emotion of his own. “Are you really that lacking in self-control, Detective?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then I insist.”

“Wait…”

Rafael scooted over in the bed to give her room, but she stayed where she was.

“I’m sorry. I’m giving you all kinds of mixed signals here. I just want you to lay here with me. That’s all.”

Laura leaned down to unlace her boots, kicking them free without regard to where they landed. Turning toward Rafael, she crawled to a sitting position next to him. Hesitantly, her voice just a bit shaky, she asked, “Can I hold you?”

“_Ven acá_,” he repeated, pulling her into his arms as she stretched out beside him. 

She felt him put a palm lightly to her cheek, one thumb under her jaw, and tilt her face up to his. When he kissed her, she felt a tear fall from her eye into the pillow. As aroused as she was by being here, holding Rafael in the dark while he kissed her tenderly, she was equally stunned by the force of her emotions. She moved her lips with his, trying to hold back and follow his lead. It wasn’t easy. Every instinct screamed to throw her leg over him and straddle him, kiss him as deeply and intrusively as possible while she ground on him and pulled that shirt from his body. Instead, she forced herself to lay quietly, returning his sweet, tender kisses.

Rafael had his own struggles. He could feel her suppressed ardor, and ached to give in to what they both wanted. He didn’t allow himself to think about it. He forced himself to keep his hands still as he held her, focusing entirely on her lips, her mouth, her tongue as she eagerly welcomed his deepening kisses. 

He only slowed down when he felt her fingers begin to play with the hem of his shirt. He knew if he felt her hands on his bare skin, he would not be able to resist. He also knew he needed to take this slowly. It was beginning to dawn on him just how important Laura had become to him, and he’d done a lot of thinking about their conversation the night of the awards dinner. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to keep memories of what Anatalia had done to him from getting between him and Laura. Just the thought of Anatalia’s name helped to cool him somewhat, so that he was able to take his mouth from Laura’s.

They were both breathing hard. He realized that they had been doing a bit more moaning as they kissed than he had been aware of at the time. He wondered if the Intelligence officer downstairs had heard them.

Rafael repositioned himself so that he was on his back with Laura in the crook of his arm, her head cradled on his shoulder. She held him with one arm across his chest, and rested her hip on his so that one of her legs settled between his.

Neither of them knew when, or how, they had fallen asleep like that. In the morning, when the Intelligence officer came to wake them and tell them there was no more threat, he gave no indication that there was anything unexpected about the fact that they were together, fully clothed, her back pressed against him and his arms tightly curled around her. In fact, the only thing he found a little odd was that she was still wearing her gun on her hip.

[1] I’m sorry, poor girl

[2] Good night.

[3] Sweet dreams.

[4] Come here.


	31. Love Isn't Always Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mouse comes home from Afghanistan, and Rafael Barba thinks that OC Laura Parker might be better off with someone like Mouse. Laura isn't buying it.

Rafael had set very strict boundaries for himself with Laura. Clothes had to stay on. Hands had to stay above the waistline and outside of clothes. Bodies had to stay side by side – no rubbing allowed. Which meant that the fact that he was shirtless, lying on top of Laura with his hands inside her unzipped hoodie and her legs wrapped around him, driving them both crazy with what he was doing with his hips, was not what he had planned. 

“I need to stop,” he gasped.

“Are you sure? Because you seem kind of interested in my bra. If you wanted to take it off, you’d have my full cooperation.” It took Laura a long time to get that out, because she had to stop between every few words to kiss him wherever she could reach, or take a shuddering breath.

“_Ño_, Laura, you’re trying to kill me.”

“Guess again, Harvard. That is not what I’m trying to do to you.”

“You are pushing the limits of ‘no means no’.”

Shit. The magic words. “OK, OK…”

Laura laid her head back on the arm of the couch and sucked in a lungful of air, letting her breath out in a long exhale. Then she braced an arm and a leg against the back of the couch and pushed, rolling her hips and dumping Rafael off of her and onto the floor. 

They lay where they were, catching their breath and laughing softly. When they were more composed, he leaned up on an elbow to play with a lock of her hair. Now his voice was low, promising. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I know this is frustrating for you. Maybe we should go into the bedroom and I could… take care of you.”

Laura rolled toward him, her sudden smile accentuated by the wicked gleam in her eye. “Do I get to take care of you, too?”

“No.” 

She flopped back down on her back. “AAAAUGH. Then no. We’re in this together. I’m going to wait for you. I’m a grown-up, I can handle it.”

“But…”

“You better believe I’ll be thinking about you later tonight, though.” She winked lasciviously at him.

“You mean…”

“None of your business. And if I come up here looking for batteries, you don’t get to ask any questions. Understand?”

“Well. I know what _I’m_ going to be thinking about later.”

“I could call you from my bed and we could…”

“NO. Stop it.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Well, I’m kind of sorry. I mean, I am trying to be understanding.” 

Rafael rolled to his knees, chuckling. He stood, walking into his kitchen. He took two bottles of San Pellegrino from the refrigerator and returned, handing one to Laura. She’d zipped her hoodie and moved to a sitting position on one side of the couch. He took a position on the other end.

When they’d quietly taken a few sips, Laura angled herself toward him, pulling one leg under her. “Listen, I want to be clear about this, because I think you deserve me to be.” 

Rafael could tell from the tone of her voice that she was no longer joking. “I complain about waiting because it is actually really fucking hard, and I’m trying to be honest about how I feel. It’s hard because you’re stupid hot, and you’re _right there_, and I… I want you. But it’s not just because you’re hot. I mostly want you because you’re you. And you’re worth waiting for. OK? So my point is, don’t let me whining about being horny for you make you think I’m not OK with waiting. Because I am. I know I suck with words, so I’m saying this in English because if I tried to explain it in Spanish I’d probably end up saying something insulting about the grazing habits of antelope, but… is any of that making any sense? 

“You took a hard left at antelope, but I think I get the general gist.”

“Just… don’t give up on me. Please? If you need me to stop trying to take your clothes off, or shut up about it…”

“Laura!” It was so damn cute how earnest she was, trying to be supportive and apologizing for being impatient – as if he would have expected anything else - he couldn’t help laughing out loud. “I don’t want you to shut up, and for God’s sake don’t stop trying to take my clothes off. I just need to take this at my own pace.” 

He reached out and took her hand across the couch. “Don’t give up on me, either. OK?”

“I promise.” 

“There is one thing…”

“What?”

“Stop making me move your hands off my junk. That’s not fair.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. But I’ll try to behave, because you asked me to. As long as you understand that I’d really rather be misbehaving somewhere in the neighborhood of your junk.”

“So stipulated.” 

*******

The team sat around the conference table, the remains of a delivered lunch scattered across legal pads, photographs, and printouts of webpages. Carisi and Barba were arguing about something; no one had any idea what, because no one paid any attention to Carisi and Barba’s arguments. Amanda and Laura were making plans to attend a meeting together after work, and Fin was leaning so far back in his chair that Olivia was trying to calculate whether he had reached the point of no return and needed rescuing. Amanda noticed movement at the door to the squad room, and Laura followed her gaze. 

The first feeling was a hot flush, accompanied by the sensation in her gut when Fin took a corner too fast in pursuit of a suspect. Laura stood slowly, lightheaded and uncertain of her balance even though she was holding onto the table. She stopped breathing. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened, and then her face crumpled into an instantaneous ugly-cry. Before she even moved from the table, fat tears were coursing down her face. 

“Oh, my God,” she cried in a harsh whisper, as though unable to find her voice in her shock.

The rest of the squad watched her take a step, then two, then begin to speed up until she was running by the time she launched herself into the arms of the man who had entered the squad room, wearing Army fatigues and holding a tan beret in one hand.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God, Mouse! You’re home! You’re home…” 

She bawled into his neck, squeezing him as hard as she possibly could, as though to make up for all the hugs they hadn’t shared in the years he’d been gone. He was facing the squad as he hugged her. They could see that his face radiated joy and his mouth stretched wide in an incandescent smile as he lifted her off her feet and squeezed her back just as hard. For a very long time, they hugged and laughed while Laura cried, all the confused and elated things she was feeling tumbling from her in broken phrases through her laughter and tears.

“As a trained detective,” Carisi said to no one in particular, “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say she knows that guy.”

Amanda and Olivia both had tears in their eyes, while Fin was standing and watching solemnly. He understood the importance of such a moment. Barba watched, assuming he knew who this man was, and wondering how to feel about the fact that he was here.

Mouse finally set Laura down and they released their grips on one another somewhat, although they didn’t let each other go. She looked him up and down, squeezing his biceps and asking breathlessly, “And you’re OK? You still have everything? No holes in you?” 

Mouse laughed, his bright, crooked smile causing attractive laugh lines to appear on the corners of his eyes. Laura thought those might be new. He was tan and had a short, scruffy, dirty-blond beard that made him look fierce. In fact, taken together, everything about him suggested that he could wipe out everyone in the room without needing a weapon or breaking a sweat.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. No holes,” he laughed. 

“Look at you! You look like such a badass!” Laura cried delightedly. He laughed.

“Back atcha. I had to see this for myself. _Detective_ Laura Parker. Nice weapon,” he said, indicating the Glock on her hip. 

“Of course you’d notice the weapon before the shield.” She couldn’t resist pulling him into another long hug. 

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming.” 

“Just a couple weeks of leave. My buddy’s getting married in Brooklyn tomorrow, made me his Best Man. So I’m here for a couple days, then headed home.”

“Can I see you? Can we hang out?”

“Yeah, I was hoping we could spend an hour or two if you can get away. This is the only chance I’ll get to see you.”

“I might be able to swing a couple hours. But first, let me introduce you to my squad.”

Laura led Mouse over to the conference area, where the squad still stood, watching the reunion between Mouse and Laura. She introduced him to everyone, leaving Rafael and Fin for last.  
“And this is our Assistant D.A., Rafael Barba – who also happens to be a good friend and my neighbor.”

Rafael and Mouse shook hands. 

“Laura’s mentioned you. Good to meet you.”

Laura quickly steered the conversation away from whatever Mouse might share in front of the team. “And this is my partner, Fin Tutuola. Fin’s Rangers, too.”

Mouse raised his eyebrows and everyone in the small group saw an instant connection form between them. For the next few minutes, Fin and Mouse shared brief outlines of their military histories with each other, solidifying the affinity.

“What’s it like tryna keep this one in line?” Mouse asked, squeezing Laura with the arm he had draped around her shoulders. 

“Don’t get me started,” Fin answered. “But I think I might make a cop out of her someday.”

From Fin, that was high praise. Laura blushed. 

Olivia stepped in at that point. “Listen, we need to get back to work, but Laura, why don’t you and Mouse take off? Keep your phone on, but we can handle this.” 

“Really? Lieu, thanks!” She turned to Mouse. “Let’s do this!”

“My buddy’s downstairs. I wanted to introduce you.”

“Take all the time you want,” Olivia said, smiling.

“I’ll be back,” Laura called as she and Mouse turned to head for the door, directing a special smile at Rafael as they did. 

Mouse’s friend Curtis Washington was a huge black man that had to be terrifying in full battle gear. He was pretty scary just in fatigues. Laura knew from Mouse’s emails and the very few Skype calls they’d shared that Curtis was as soft inside as he was hard outside. Mouse and Curtis were close. They hadn’t known one another during Mouse’s first two tours in Afghanistan, but had become fast friends when Mouse had returned to his unit. 

Laura and Curtis spent some time getting acquainted, sharing the stories they’d each heard about the other. They talked about Curtis’s wedding and the logistical problems Mouse had trying to arrange tonight’s Bachelor Party from Afghanistan.

The rest of the time, Laura and Mouse re-established their friendship, catching up on the smaller details of their lives that hadn’t been important enough to share in their infrequent emails and Skype chats.  
“So, you do sex crimes, right?” Mouse asked, more for Curtis’s benefit than his own. 

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” she laughed. “I investigate sex crimes. I don’t do them.” She talked a bit about what her job involved and the challenges it presented.

“Hey,” Mouse said, remembering. “You still practicing krav?”

“You know I am. I told you I got my blue belt.”

“Wait – you’re a blue belt in krav maga?” Curtis looked at her as if she couldn’t possibly be serious.

Laura beamed. “Yeah. I could kick this guy’s ass before I got my green.” She smiled at Mouse. “Probably kill him with one hand these days.” 

“Naw…” Curtis shook his huge head.

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised,” Mouse laughed. “And everything else… You doin’ OK?” he asked, turning serious. He didn’t want to pry, but he’d been there at the worst time of her life. He felt very protective, and needed to know she was dealing with what had happened to her. 

“I’m good, Mouse. I am. In fact, I got a story you, especially, will appreciate. A couple of months back, a guy made a complaint to our Chief about me, said I roughed him up during an arrest.”

“Did you?”

“Hell, yeah I did. He went after Fin.”

“My girl!” Mouse pulled her in for a one-armed hug, laughing.

“But here’s the thing. You know what he told the Chief about me?”

“Let me guess. He said you’re dangerous.”

Laura grinned, and the look they shared spoke volumes. 

“Fuckin’ A,” Mouse said quietly, toasting her with his beer.

“You… been under any tables yourself lately?” She asked pointedly.

“No. It makes no sense, but I’m better over there. Not sayin’ I’m cured or anything, and who knows what’ll happen tomorrow, but for now, I’m good.”

Laura couldn’t stop herself from throwing her arms around him yet again.

*********

Rafael thought seriously about telling Laura he had to work late, even though he could easily leave his office. Seeing her with her ex-boyfriend today had thrown him. It all looked so easy for them. That’s the kind of guy she should be with – someone who could let her jump into his arms and simply catch her, not someone with wounds so deep he would have to think long and hard about whether he even had the courage to try. Every time he and Laura were together, every new memory they made, he felt himself more exposed, more unprotected from whatever cruelty she might choose to inflict. Even as hard as he had tried to protect his heart, he knew it was already hers, and she could crush it at will. It made him feel weak. It made him feel small.

And yet, when he was with her, he didn’t feel weak or small at all. He felt strong and capable, intelligent and clever, able to protect her from anything that threatened her, because that was the way she saw him. He didn’t understand why she would feel that way. He only knew he couldn’t stay away from her. 

He picked up his phone to text her, and saw that he already had a message from her, asking if they could have dinner together.

She didn’t want to ask him what was on his mind. She thought she knew. If she was right, he wouldn’t want to be pushed to talk about it; he would bring it up in his own time. In the meantime, she could only love him as much as he would let her. 

They were sitting side by side on her couch, his arm around her while she leaned against him holding a carton of moo shu pork. They each had chopsticks and had reached the stage where they were just picking the occasional morsel from the carton while they talked. It wasn’t a position in which Rafael would ever have pictured himself eating dinner, and he found it particularly unwieldy, but sitting across a table from Laura seemed too far apart.

Laura told Rafael about the hours she’d spent with Mouse and his friend Curtis, and Rafael gave her a condensed description of the rest of the squad’s strategy meeting. Finally, they decided they’d had enough Chinese food and got up to clean away the remains.

“I was thinking about you today,” Rafael said as he dumped cartons and bags into the trash. Laura knew from the tone of his voice that he had finally come to the point of saying what was bothering him.  
“Yeah? I was thinking about you, too.” She smiled at Rafael, but he was focused on his task, not wanting to look at her.

“I was thinking that you belong with a guy like Mouse. Someone you can just be happy with, no complications, no bullshit from the past.”

“Except for the part where Mouse and I bonded under a table because of complications and bullshit from his past. And the part where he left me and he lives in Afghanistan.” 

“You should be with someone your own age.” 

“My own _age_? I’m not even ten years younger than you. What’s going on with you?”

“I’m rethinking.”

That wasn’t good. “Rethinking?”

Rafael sighed and sat on one of the bar stools across the counter from Laura’s kitchen while she wiped down the countertops.

“Rethinking the idea of letting you waste your time with me.”

“It’s my time, Rafael. I’ll decide if I’m wasting it. What’s with all the excuses? I wish you’d just talk to me.”

Rafael hesitated. Laura was so damn certain! How did she do that, just wear her heart on her sleeve where he could easily hurt her if he chose to? Of course, he wouldn’t choose to – he didn’t think he was capable of intentionally hurting her at this point. But that didn’t mean anything about what she might do to him. 

“I don’t think I want to do this,” he said quietly, no inflection in his voice.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you should be with a guy like Mouse. Or Peter Stone. Someone… not me.”

Laura dropped the dishcloth on the edge of her sink and turned to lean on the counter opposite him. “Are you giving up on me?” She asked softly.

“I’m giving up on me.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“What if I don’t give you a choice?” 

“What are you saying? Aren’t we friends?”

“Yes. We’re friends. And you said if that was all there is, it would be enough.” 

“I might’ve been wrong,” Laura muttered. 

“Laura. Go. Date. Be happy.” 

_Oh, for the love of… Date? What does he think he and I have been doing? Patience, Parker. Be patient… On the other hand, fuck patience. _

“You know what? You’re pissing me off. First of all, who says I need to be dating anybody? I want to be with you because I want to be with you, not because I have to be dating somebody. And second, if you don’t want to be with me, then just fucking say so. That, I can respect. But whatever it is you’re doing now? It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you. It’s that you don’t want to be with me.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel! And don’t you dare fucking tell me to just switch it off. Do you really think I’m that shallow? Is that really all you think my feelings for you are worth? 

“Look, I’m gonna go.”

“You know what I think, Barba? You’re a little too used to being able to tell everyone what to do. “

“Believe me, I am under no illusion that I can tell _you_ what to do.”

“Good. Because you can’t. I’m not going to go date some bozo just so that you don’t have to take a chance on being happy. And I’m not gonna just stop feeling the way I feel about you for your convenience, either.” 

Rafael got up from the stool and stood, one hand on the back, just looking at Laura as though trying to absorb her confidence in him. In them. 

“See this?” Her lips flattened with a just the smallest uplift at the corners. “This is me, not giving up on you. No one said it would be pretty.”

“I never said it wasn’t pretty. I just said it was terrifying.” Rafael blew Laura a kiss and went up to his own apartment.


	32. All In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another man makes a pass at OC Laura Parker, making Rafael Barba question whether he can continue to take things slow with her. The answer turns out to be a definite no.

The hotel ballroom was crowded with people wearing expensive suits and cocktail dresses. Drinks were flowing as they always do at a professional function with an open bar.

Rollins leaned over to mutter into Laura’s ear. “Don’t look now, but Mr. Tall, Dark, and $2,500 shoes is checking you out.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Staring like a dog in heat. How romantic,” she quietly responded. They turned back to the conversation of the group they were standing with.

“Look, all I’m saying is that judge was wrong. Our search was legit,” Carisi was saying.

The woman next to him took the bait, and they were off on a debate of the 4th Amendment in which neither Rollins nor Laura had any interest.

Laura sighed. “Has it been an hour? Can we go now?”

“Thirty-five minutes.”

“That’s it. I’m calling the ACLU. There has to be an exception to mandatory work events for people who can’t drink. Because alcohol is the only possible way to survive these things.”

“Lemme tell you, it’s not helping that much,” Rollins responded drily. “We could network, I guess. Kill some time. Maybe enhance our careers.”

“Uh-huh. 'Cuz I’m just dying to become a white-shirt. Can you see me in those administration meetings? I’d have Dodds in a chokehold and be banging his head against the conference table in about five minutes.”

Rollins held up her empty glass. “Well, I hate to do this to you, Parker, but I’m going to get a refill.” 

As Amanda moved off toward the bar, the man who had been openly admiring Laura walked over. 

“I’m Adam Watson, new head of Public Affairs at One PP.” He held out his hand, and she shook it. “I’ve been in NYC for two weeks now and the only people I’ve met are old men. I decided to introduce myself to you so that I can say I know at least one beautiful woman in the city. Help a guy out?”

“Hmmmm.” Laura took a sip of her drink. “Not terrible, but a little on the cheesy side. Also, just bordering on sexist. Wanna try again?”

He laughed. He did have a very nice smile, and nice laugh lines at the corners of his blue eyes. “Uh… how about simply, ‘Hi, I’m Adam Watson?”

“Better.” She said, and shook his hand again. “Detective Laura Parker, SVU.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “So, basically the exact wrong person to try that line on.”

“Basically. But I’ll overlook it because I know like five people in this room, and they’ve all deserted me.”

“You’ve got me beat. I think I know three. Mind you, I’ve been introduced to probably 50% of the people here, but I’ve already forgotten all of their names, and I’m going to be expected to recognize them when I see them again.”

Laura laughed. “You mean I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here?” 

“Detective, 95% of the people in this room don’t want to be here.”

She laughed. “Well,” she said, clinking her glass with his. “Misery does love company.”

He moved closer to her, encroaching slightly on her personal space, but he didn’t touch her. “Looks like you could use a fresh drink. Can I buy you a refill?”

“At an open bar. Chivalrous.” They both chuckled sociably as they turned toward the bar area. 

There was a mass of people crowded around the bar, jostling and trying to catch the attention of one of the bartenders. 

“Stay here,” Adam told Laura as they approached the edge of the crowd. “I’ll take on the mob. What are you drinking?”

“Pellegrino with lime.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s no good. Sparkling water isn’t going to soften the edges of this command performance, is it? I’ll see what I can do.”

“No, thanks. Pellegrino is perfect.” 

He winked at her and waded into to the melee around the bar.

A soft but scornful voice beside Laura’s ear said, “You do realize that wink means ‘I’m not listening to you, I’ll never get you back to my place if you’re sober’?” 

She turned her head to grin at Rafael. “Cynic. 20 bucks says he comes back with Pellegrino.”

“50 says he comes back with whiskey.”

“You’re on.”

They turned to face one another. “Man, I’m glad to see you. Liv is requiring all of us to show the flag for at least an hour. I’m only forty minutes in and I already want to slit my wrists. Twenty more and I might end up starting a fistfight, just for something to do with my hands.” 

Rafael laughed, smiling at her in a way that sent hot shivers through her. “Promise you’ll give me a heads up so I can get a good seat. And if you’re taking requests, may I suggest Rita Calhoun could use a good ass-kicking?” 

“Uh-oh. What’d she win now?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’d rather talk about how pretty you look tonight.”

Rafael actually thought she looked better than pretty. Stunning was closer to the mark. The simplicity of her black dress accentuated her curves, and the low-cut back showed enough skin to make Rafael’s hands itch to caress her. The dress was exactly long enough to be appropriate, and not one millimeter longer. He had seen her from across the room and admired her legs as she walked with that yahoo in a cheap suit now getting her a drink.

“Thank you. You’re just not used to seeing me in drag, is all.”

“_Tonterías_.[1] I have excellent taste. If I say you look great, you do.” 

“You look even better than usual, yourself,” she replied, a little shyly. The suit he was wearing, one she’d never seen before, was a beautiful worsted wool featuring a green stripe that made his eyes even more dazzling.

At that moment, Adam Watson returned, holding a small tray over the heads of the crowd. When he brought it down, Laura and Rafael saw that he had, indeed, brought her sparkling water. He had also brought two shots of tequila. 

“Here you go,” he announced. “Pellegrino for your thirst, and tequila for the pain.” He looked quite proud of himself.

Laura looked at Rafael and saw the smirk she knew he would be wearing. But it was tinged with something unpleasant. “Laura,” he said, “You don’t drink, do you?” There was an edge to his voice.

“No, I don’t.”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Rafael picked up the shot and tossed it back without bothering with the salt and lime on the tray. “Thanks, guy,” he said to Adam with an obviously fake smile. He put an arm possessively around Laura’s waist and steered her past Adam Watson. 

He led her to a table about halfway across the room. “You owe me 50 bucks.”

“Technically, I don’t. You said he’d bring whiskey. But you do owe me 20, because I said he’d bring Pellegrino. Which, by the way, I didn’t get to drink before you whisked me away like the Secret Service.”

“I’ll buy you a case. Who is that slimeball?”

“New head of PR at One PP. Which means both of us are probably going to regret what you just did.”

“I doubt that very much,” Rafael snarled. 

Laura squinted at him. “You OK? He’s just some flirty dude at a cocktail party. Why aren’t we just making fun of him?”

“I’m surprised you’re not more annoyed. Guy tries to force alcohol on you…”

“That might be a little overdramatic. C’mon, you know I can handle him.”

“Knock yourself out,” Rafael snapped. “I was just trying to do a good deed.”

“And you did. Thank you. But it wasn’t necessary.” 

“Yeah. Whatever.” He tossed back the rest of his drink. “Then you’re on your own. You can probably still get that Pellegrino.”

As she watched him stalk off across the room, Laura wondered whether the motion he’d lost to Rita Calhoun today had gotten under Rafael’s skin, or whether this was an extension of the feelings he’d been having a few nights before. She made a mental note to call him when she got home and ask if he wanted to talk about it. 

She turned around to look for a familiar face in the crowd, and almost immediately caught Adam Watson’s eye again. He was looking at her, and still held her drink. He raised it up to her in invitation. Not wanting to be rude, she walked over.

“Thank you,” she said. “Sorry about that. He’s um, protective of my sobriety.”

Adam ignored the mention of Rafael as though he didn’t exist. “Sobriety, huh? Good for you. How long?”

“Over eight years now. But you don’t want to talk about that.”

He again stepped just a little too close. “Actually, I’d enjoy talking about you. Let’s go see if we can find a quiet table where we can do that, shall we?” 

Laura would rather not. His manner was a little oily for her, and she had no intention of sharing any kind of personal information with the new head of Pubic Affairs for NYPD. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we see if we can find the rest of my squad? They’re here somewhere, and…”

“Please, don’t make me meet any more people whose names I won’t remember.” He smiled down at her, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her toward a table. “Besides, I’m sure they can’t be as beautiful as you. I’d rather spend some time getting to know each other.”

She mentally rolled her eyes and decided she was going to have to find a way to extricate herself gracefully from this situation. This guy was definitely sleazy, but neither she nor her SVU colleagues needed the new brass to start out with a grudge. She let him lead her – drive her, really – toward a table. Seriously, he was good looking, she guessed, but did women really respond to this bulldozer treatment? 

He pulled his chair too close to hers and leaned in, touching her hand. She could smell some kind of spicy aftershave and something else – maybe a hair product. He put his face in front of hers and looked her square in the eye. “So. Who is Detective Laura Parker, hmmmm?” She almost laughed.

Laura caught Rafael glowering at them from across the room, and knew she would have to explain at some point how this had happened. She spent the next twenty awkward minutes trying to back away from Adam Watson, and out of the conversation. She realized that he was not only obnoxious but actually fairly drunk. Her patience ran out when he put a hand behind her head and tried to pull her in for a kiss. “I have to tell you, Laura,” he breathed tequila into her face, “I haven’t been able to look away from you in that dress. The way it hugs your body and shows off those perfect tits –“

Laura pulled away from him, but he grabbed her wrists. “Listen, let’s get out of here. I have a town car waiting for me, and I’d like to get you in the back seat and lick -“ His speech ended in a high-pitched squeak as Laura took the fingers of his left hand into a very particular grip.

“Mr. Watson, you and I have to work together. And that means that you will speak to me with respect. I understand that you’re drunk, and I’m going to assume that you would never act this way under normal circumstances. I’ll forget this ever happened. But, if you ever talk to me like that again, I’m going to break your fingers one by one.” Her expression had been as hard as her words. Just as suddenly, however, she favored him with an overly-sweet smile as she dropped his hand. “With all due respect, of course.”

She didn’t wait for a response. She got up and walked rapidly away, immediately scanning the room for Rafael. She was looking forward to hearing him laugh when she told him what had just happened. The first familiar face she saw was a junior ADA who had handled a few motions and arraignments for SVU. 

“Hey, Suneetha, have you seen ADA Barba?”

“Yeah, he left about 10 minutes ago. Looked like he was in a foul mood, too.”

“Thanks.” 

What did that mean? Rafael couldn’t think… He knew her better than that. As soon as Adam Watson tried to give her a drink she had told him she didn’t want, any possibility of even friendship between them had ended. Rafael had to know that. Although, to be fair, he did have the right to be a little miffed that he had tried to rescue her from a jerk, only to see her head right back to said jerk. She had been planning to call Rafael anyway. She decided she would need to begin the call with an apology, or at least an explanation. 

Fin signaled her from a stand-up table a few yards away, where he was chatting with some people – clearly cops – she didn’t know. She spent the next hour in a surprisingly pleasant conversation with them.

Fin dropped her at her building around midnight. She was exhausted from trying to act appropriately in front of the NYPD brass and city legal dignitaries at the event. She’d much rather have been with him, chasing some suspect down a crowded street. She was also a little concerned because she had texted Rafael and received no response.

From the street outside their building, she had seen that his lights were still on, so she assumed he was still up. Besides, they often texted each other late at night. As she waited for the elevator, she decided to try another text to see whether he would talk to her. 

**Laura:**  
You left without saying goodbye.

10 minutes later, when she had dropped her coat and purse on the couch in her apartment, he still hadn’t responded.

**Laura:**  
If you’re not speaking to me, it really only works if I know that.

That got him to text back.

**Rafael:**  
It’s late. Go to bed.

**Laura:**  
I’m coming up.

He might have answered, but she didn’t wait to find out. She grabbed her keys and took the stairs to his apartment, still wearing the dress she’d worn to the cocktail party. 

When she knocked quietly on his door, she initially heard nothing. Then, his muffled voice came through the door saying, “Use your key.” He didn’t add, “if you must,” but she heard it anyway.

He had changed his immaculate suit for a dark green polo shirt and jeans. He was in his kitchen, in the process of slamming dishes none too gently into the dishwasher. He looked up at her, but didn’t stop what he was doing.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” he told her. “It’s midnight. I am not mad at you, I left because I wanted to, and everything’s fine.”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why you’re doing your best to smash those plates to bits.” 

“Really? You’re going to criticize my kitchen abilities at this point in the conversation?”

She stepped to him and put a hand on his arm. “Rafael. Please. I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me. Will you let me explain what happened at the party?”

Rafael sighed and turned toward Laura. “There’s no need. I’m not mad at you.”

For a moment, they just stood looking at one another. 

“I threatened to break that PR guy’s fingers, you know. I shut him down, and I wasn’t nice about it.”

“Yeah, but why? What was the point, Laura?” He turned his back, resuming his noisy work.

“He was a dick.” 

“OK, that guy’s a dick, but maybe the next guy won’t be.”

“Stop it, Rafael. There’s no ‘next guy’. I’m not having that conversation again.” 

“Laura, you could do better than me. And that is a conversation _I’m_ not having again.”

“I don’t want to do better. I want you. Deal with it.”

Rafael slammed the dishwasher shut. “I’ve _been_ dealing with it! Look what you’ve done to my life! I was doing just fine until you showed up. Now I’ve got you texting me nonsense all day, you’re on my couch every night, I’m leaving work early when I could be getting things done, I’m tripping over your kicked-off shoes everywhere… I can’t think straight! I haven’t had a moment’s peace since the day I met you! So why don’t you do us both a favor and take ‘no’ for an answer?”

Laura’s shock showed plainly in her face. She stood, speechless, confusion and humiliation robbing her of her senses. 

“Laura, I…”

“Stop.” She managed to choke out in a small voice. She put a hand on his arm and tried valiantly to paste a small smile on her face. “Please, you don’t have to say any more. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I can be… blind sometimes. I didn’t… I thought… I’m sorry. I really am. Good night.”

She straightened her spine and held her head high as she stepped, working furiously to maintain her dignity, out of his kitchen. Rafael thought he could actually feel the pieces of his heart tearing apart as she left the room.

He went after her. “Laura, no… Don’t go…”

“It’s late, I’ll see you at work,” she said, her voice beginning to break free of her control. 

He reached her as she got to the door. As she tried to pull it open, he stepped behind her, reached his arm out past her and put a hand on it, keeping it closed. She stood, facing the door, in the small space between his body, the wall, and his arm.

“Please. Don’t go. I’m sorry…” Rafael spoke softly, his voice gruff, fighting with his own emotions. He moved his body just a bit closer to hers, testing to see whether she would tolerate his touch. 

She felt immobilized by her own conflicting desires to flee from him in shame and to throw herself into his arms and beg him to love her. Without words to express any of that, all she could do was stand, forehead pressed against his apartment door, traitorous tears welling in her eyes and escaping to slide hotly down her face.

He risked another half step toward her, lowering his arm and wrapping it lightly around her waist. She could feel his face next to hers, his mouth just beside her ear. “Don’t leave me. Please,” he whispered, leaning his head on hers.

“I’m sorry f-for leaving my shoes here,” she choked, leaning just a bit back against him.

“Oh, God, Laura-“ He turned her to face him, placing a hand on either side of her tear-stained face. “Everything I just said was a lie. Do you have any idea what it does to me when I come home and I see those little holey tennis shoes next to my couch? They make it possible for me to start to believe you’re real.” He kissed her messily as she sniffled.

“I think about you all day long. I’ll be meeting with some asshole talking about unspeakable crimes and I’ll get a text from you with some stupid thing Carisi said, and I just want to start singing. I hardly ever stay late at work anymore because I can’t stand to be anywhere but where you are. And it scares the hell out of me. You know it does.” 

“I know,” she sniffed. “It’s OK.”

“No. It’s not. I lost it just now because halfway is no good for either of us. I need to be in or out.”

Laura’s face lost all color except for flushed areas on her cheeks from crying. “Rafael, don’t-“

“Laura, I’m saying I’m in. The minute you started to walk out that door I knew I could never let you go. Who am I kidding? I’ve been in this whole time.”

Leaning down, Rafael tilted his face toward Laura’s, taking a long time to touch his lips to hers to let what he’d said sink in. When she tilted up to him and tightened her arms around him, he pressed his mouth more firmly to hers, deepening the soft, light kiss just a little. 

“Are we OK?” He asked.

“We’re OK,” she whispered, moving to continue the kiss. 

He began to kiss her more deeply then, pushing her gently back against the door. She returned his kisses with growing intensity, her arms winding around him as tightly as his around her. Soon they clung together, pressing their bodies together as though they couldn’t get close enough. 

He realized, in some dim recess of his mind, that he wanted to move them somewhere other than this corner of his small, dark foyer. But he didn’t want to do anything to break the spell, anything that might make her change her mind and want to leave again. Only after a very long time, when he felt her relax against him and heard her begin to breathe soft moans of pleasure, did he take a step backward. He moved away from the door, tentatively pulling her with him while they kissed passionately, almost desperately.

He took his time, needing her to want to stay. It was working. She shivered as he ran his hands down her sides and the bare skin of her back in the low cut dress, her own hands enjoying the contours of his muscular shoulders and upper arms. He thought he felt her initiate a step then, and within minutes they were standing, locked together, a few feet inside his living room. He felt her hands move to his chest, sliding them slowly down his torso in a maddening caress. She stopped moving and drew in a sharp breath as she felt him effortlessly lower the zipper on the back of her dress. He ran his fingers lightly up the bare skin of her back from the bottom of the zipper to her neck. They both felt her skin break out in goosebumps. Such undeniable evidence that she was enjoying what he was doing ratcheted up his arousal a few more notches. 

He kissed slowly down her jaw and began on her neck. When he heard her breathy moan, he slid his hands up her arms until he reached her shoulders, hooked his thumbs on the straps of her dress, and pushed them off her shoulders. As the straps slid down her arms, the dress slithered down her body, pooling on the floor.

“Smooth,” she breathed.

Rafael began with his hands on her hips and glided them slowly up her sides. “For half that damned party, I was working out how I could get this dress off of you.”

“I thought you liked my dress.”

“I like it even better now,” he said, leaning down to scoop her up in his arms.

He carried her easily into his bedroom and set her gently on the bed, then pulled off his shirt in one motion as she playfully kicked off her shoes and moved over to make room for him. He lay down on his side next to her with her arm behind him, and immediately reached over to pull her to him. They made quick work of his pants and her panties.

Immediately, she tried to pull him over on top of her. He chuckled down low as he kissed her, and stayed where he was, lying on his side. He propped his head up on one arm, placing his free hand on her shoulder and running it slowly down her chest, across her breast and stomach, to her hip. “Relax,” he murmured, dipping his head to give her a sweet kiss. “We have all night.” He took a very long time to simply look at her, drinking her in as she lay there next to him, entirely exposed to his eyes. 

“_’Ño, Laura, eres tan hermosa_.”[2]

She found lying there, simply allowing him to admire her nude body, the most erotic thing they had done thus far. His eyes sparkled in the half-light, his expression hungry and appreciative. But she wasn’t going to be able to lie still for long. As he slid his hand back up to her breast, she couldn’t help but arch her back, pressing into his hand. Laura moaned and squirmed beneath him, feeling every touch of his hands and mouth like a jolt of lightning to her core. He cupped her breast, using his thumb to tease her achingly hard nipple as he leaned over to use his lips and tongue on her other breast. “Rafael…”

She tried to turn toward him. She wanted him inside her, now. He wasn’t having it.

“Shhhh… Just let me…”

“I want to touch you. You made me wait so long-”

“And I’m gonna make you wait even longer,” he said, kissing her fondly.

He used his hands and mouth to worship her breasts for so long that she could feel her wetness beginning to actually drip down the inside of her thigh. When he began to slide one hand down her side to her hip, he heard her breath catch. From the way she shifted her pelvis, he guessed his caress was having the intended effect. He slowed the movement of his hand, prolonging her anticipation. 

Laura was becoming desperate. He was deliberately teasing her. Fuck, he was good with his hands, and his lips, and his tongue… She cried out as he finally ran a finger between her lower lips. He began a slow, thorough exploration with his fingers while he continued nuzzling her breasts. He smiled to himself as he felt her begin to move her hips and heard her whimper. He took his time teasing and caressing her with his fingers before finally, slowly slipping a finger into her. She cried out again. He began a maddeningly slow rhythm, sliding his finger deliciously in an out of her dripping passage, as he moved up to recapture her mouth with his. He relished her hungry response over prolonged minutes of deeply intimate kissing. She began to rock her hips wantonly, unable to control her moans, as he deliberately teased her with the tip of a second finger for long moments before giving in and sliding the second finger inside of her. 

Finally, she couldn’t stay still any longer. She rolled toward him, throwing a leg over his. She kissed him, immediately taking control, exploring his lips and tongue with her own, while she reached down and ran her hand up first his leg, then slowly across his buttocks, before sliding it down his hip to caress his cock for the first time. His lips became nearly motionless as his entire attention became focused on what she was doing to him. His groan sent jolts of electricity through her. The idea that it was her causing Rafael Barba to make that noise was overwhelmingly exciting. 

She had known, from their frustrating but delicious experiences on the couch, that his cock would be superb. Now, finally past the barriers of his clothing, she reveled in being able to see and fully touch him. She wanted everything all at once. She pushed herself up on one hand so that she could explore his chest with the other, stroking and nuzzling haphazardly in her excitement. When she bent down to lick the tip of his cock, the movement of her body made her intentions clear.

“_Mi cariño_,[3] you need to stop that,” he growled.

“And if I don’t?” She whispered wickedly.

He took her by the upper arms and guided her back up the bed, then rolled them over so that he was lying on top of her. “Then I won’t be able to do what I want to do to you.”

“You mean what _I_ want you to do to me.”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, laughing softly and moving her hips in a way he couldn’t resist. As he entered her, he groaned gruffly, “_Eres una hechicera, ¿Cómo tienes ese control sobre mí? Algún día podré decirte que no._”[4]

She gasped in answer. 

Neither of them were able to prolong things longer than a few minutes. Rafael was beyond thinking, overwhelmed by the sensations – both physical and emotional – he was feeling. He reveled in the hot wetness of Laura’s body gripping him as he moved in and out of her. Laura had already been impatient to feel him inside her, but the sheer ecstasy of Rafael’s size stretching and filling her exceeded even her expectations. He pushed into her, withdrawing almost completely, then joyfully entering her again. He wasn’t going to be able to last much longer, hearing Laura cry out her excitement and feeling her rock her hips in time with his pumping. Her arousal was his. He lifted up onto his elbows so that he could look down at her face. Seconds later, she cried out his name and arched her back. He wanted to stay with her through her orgasm, but that was more than he could take. She was still bucking and shaking as he felt his own overwhelming climax burst upon him.

Many minutes later, Laura felt him roll them over so that they were lying side by side, holding one another. She was too spent to open her eyes. She wasn’t sure whether she felt better physically, with all the endorphins and other hormones swirling through her, or mentally, knowing that she had just – finally - had mind-blowing sex with Rafael. It had been too fast, but she would take care of that in a little while.

Rafael cradled her to him. She felt him lift his shoulder to tip her head toward him and kiss her forehead. He held his lips to her face for some time, thinking that the smell of her shampoo would make him horny for the rest of his life. He found he was smiling to himself. Had it really been that long since he’d gotten laid, or was she really that special? He knew it was both. _Go slow, my ass_, he thought. 

He felt much, much more than a blissful, post-sex haze. He tried to stay completely in the moment and think only about this woman he held, who had slipped so blithely past all his defenses. He cared far more for her than he wanted to, and he would much have preferred not to be that vulnerable. In his more confident moments, he reminded himself what they’d been through together and the complete trust he had in her as a result. But that was his body. This was his heart. Still, it was too late now. He had no choice but to trust her, because he knew, without a doubt, that he was in love with her.

“So that happened,” he finally managed to say, still trying to catch his breath.

“Holy shit,” she panted.

“Yeah.”

“When I regain the power of rational thought, I’ll try to form a sentence about how great that was. But for now…”

“Holy shit will do,” he chuckled, kissing her forehead through her hair.

“But, are you… OK?” 

He replied in a more serious tone, and put a hand to her cheek. “I’m way better than OK. When we get under the covers, I’ll be perfect.”

“Now there’s a double meaning I really like the sound of.”

“Don’t end a sentence with a preposition.”

Laura sat up. “Seriously? At this moment, what you have to say to me is, ‘Don’t end a sentence with a preposition’? What is wrong with me? How am I naked with you right now?”

Laughing, they slipped between the crisp, cool sheets of his bed to cuddle together. 

Rafael knew he was smiling in the dark like an idiot, and he couldn’t have cared less. Laura had her eyes closed, enjoying the sensory experience of breathing in Rafael’s scent, feeling his muscular shoulder under her cheek, running her fingers lightly over his chest to savor the softness of his chest hair. 

She was dimly aware of a sense of awe underlying her post-coital bliss. He was so much more than she’d imagined – more tender, more skilled, more sensual and romantic. And they hadn’t even started.

They dozed together, sated and happy. Rafael woke a while later, distantly curious about what time it was, but didn’t have the energy or inclination to move enough to look at the clock. He felt Laura stir against him and heard her sigh happily. The idiotic smile was back on his face.

“Hypothetically, if I said you rocked my world tonight, how insufferable would you be about it?” Her voice was languid and dreamy, with a tinge of amusement.

“One to ten?” He asked. She loved the rumble of his voice in his chest under her ear as she snuggled into him.

“Sure.”

“Well, my baseline’s about an eight, so…”

She squeezed him as she laughed, kissing his chest, then lifted up so she could kiss his lips. She didn’t say anything, just looked at him with a satisfied smile. 

“_Ven acá_,”[5] he whispered, sliding his hand up her bare back and pulling her to him. She kissed him back, deepening the kiss and running her hand over his chest. When she felt the kiss change, she slowly let her hand drift down his chest and abdomen, until her fingers lightly traced over his cock. She could feel the first stirrings of arousal in him, and tenderly fondled him while they kissed.

“I know that was fast before,” she murmured provocatively against his lips, “but what I lack in patience, I make up for in perseverance.” He thought he had never known a woman who challenged him so often to kiss and smile at the same time. 

As he grew harder, she moved to kiss his jaw, then his neck, and shifted her body to scatter a long, meandering line of kisses and soft nips down his chest and abdomen.

He groaned again, low in his chest, when she took him into her mouth, softly exploring his balls with her fingers. The musk of him, and of their lovemaking, was intoxicating. He was soon grinding his hips and gulping air, moaning heatedly, which inspired her to do everything she could think of to pleasure him. She spent long minutes stroking him, sucking and licking him, following his movements and his cries to establish the rhythm he wanted. Fuck, it was hot to hear Rafael so undone, and to know that it was her giving him such gratification. When he began to fuck her mouth wantonly, she knew he was close. She continued to suck him, running her tongue up and down his shaft and around the head of his cock until a cry and a salty jet in the back of her throat told her that she had given him the pleasure she’d been aiming for. She paid close attention to him as he rode his orgasm to its completion, moving with him until she had drawn out the last shudders. 

He was still breathing heavily as she crawled back to his side and cuddled up to him, throwing an arm and a leg over him as she kissed his chest. He fell asleep with his nose buried in her fragrant hair.

It took Laura a few blinks to realize where she was when she awoke. When she did, her stomach did a little flip and she scooted closer to where Rafael lay behind her with his arm over her. She felt him kiss the back of her hair.

“Hi,” she muttered.

He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Did I wake you?”

“I don’t think so. How come you’re awake?”

“I had a nice dream.”

“About?”

“About you. Turns out it was real.” She felt him chuckle behind her. It felt wonderful.

“I had the same dream. It _was_ nice.” She turned over to face him and put her arm over him, pulling as close to him as she could.

“Laura…”

“Hmmm?”

He didn’t answer. She looked up. 

“Rafa?”

“The waking up part is really nice, too.” He kissed her long and slow, and began to make love to her again. 

[1] Nonsense

[2] Fuck, Laura, you’re so beautiful.

[3] My sweetheart

[4] You’re a sorceress. How do you have such control over me? Some day I’ll be able to say no to you.

[5] Come here.


	33. The New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba has finally decided to take a chance on love with OC Laura Parker. Their whole worlds are a little different now. The SVU squad notices immediately.

The phones didn’t seem to be ringing yet this Monday morning, which gave Laura’s caffeine a chance to kick in before she had to begin dealing with the problems of the day. She needed the time. The entire world seemed to have taken on a new shape so that, although she recognized the parts of her life, they weren’t quite where she had left them.

She and Rafael were lovers. He wanted to be a couple. The sun probably wasn’t actually shining brighter, and colors probably weren’t more vibrant than before she’d gone to Rafael’s apartment the previous Friday, but Laura would swear they were.

“Parker, look at me.”

Laura blinked, looking over at Amanda, who was squinting at her. “What?”

Amanda rolled her chair over to Laura’s desk. “You dirty slut,” she whispered, beaming. “Anyone we know?”

Laura tried to look blank. “What are you talking about?”

Amanda actually laughed. “Bitch, please. You think I don’t know beard burn when I see it? And yours is not only bad, it’s fresh, too. Which means you’ve been in bed with someone all weekend. Including this morning.”

“Fuck,” Laura sighed, pulling open the lower drawer of her desk and grabbing the makeup bag she kept there. She stood and headed for the locker room. Amanda followed her.

Once in the locker room, she said, “C’mon, Laura, spill. I have two children still in diapers. Your sex life is the only one I’m gonna get right now.”

Laura looked in the mirror and groaned. Rollins wasn’t kidding. The lower half of her face showed a telltale irritation. She began to try to disguise it as best she could, focusing on her self-consciousness so she wouldn’t break out with a dopey grin. It was a little humiliating to be wearing such an obvious sign of what she’d been doing all weekend, but she was just so fucking happy about it, and she did want to keep her feelings private. She knew Rollins would tease her much more about having feelings than about having sex.

Amanda stood next to the mirror while Laura worked. Her face was full of delight. “You finally got Barba into bed. It’s about damn time. So…?”

Laura blushed furiously despite her best efforts. Amanda let out a hoot of laughter. 

“That good, huh?”

“Shut up. I’m not talking about it. We all already know way too much about eachother’s lives. And we all have to work together.”

“Here.” Amanda took the make-up sponge from Laura. “Years of experience.”

“Thanks,” Laura said, as Amanda began to touch up her makeup. 

“You seem happy,” Amanda said kindly. “I assume that means there’s gonna be a second date?”

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Well, good. Just let me know if you need me to shoot him. Cuz I can make it look like an accident.”

Laura chuckled. “Good to know.”

As they sat back down at their desks, Laura said quietly to Amanda, “Can we please just keep this on the down-low? It’s… private.”

“No problem.”

Carisi and Fin walked into the squad room together, both smiling and practically giggling. 

“We just saw Barba. He was whistling. You guys finally slept together, didn’t you?” Carisi asked, loudly enough for half the squad room to hear. 

Laura’s head hit her desk. “Well, that was private for all of five minutes,” she groaned.

*****

It had been a strange meeting for Rafael. The squad had been working for three days straight, catching catnaps in the crib when possible. They finally had a suspect in custody, but the guy wasn’t giving anything up. The meeting had been productive in that they were almost there; he only needed a couple more pieces to put a case together without a confession. With a plan for going forward, the squad had headed out to the streets again to find what they needed. 

Rafael had watched Laura throughout the meeting. He tried to concentrate only on the case, thinking through the theories he could use and the evidence they’d need to prove them. But he had been thinking about Laura constantly for the past three days and was intensely curious about what it would be like to work with her after their weekend together. He hoped he was behaving normally and interacting naturally with her, but he couldn’t be confident because he was entirely aware of her throughout the meeting. 

He put his tablet into his briefcase and headed out of the squad room. He hoped they’d find what they were looking for quickly. He wanted to talk to Laura. Now that he’d finally decided that his feelings for her were stronger than his fear, he was frantic to pick up where they’d left off before this case started. And he needed to know that she was thinking about him the same way.

As he strode down the hall, the elevator doors opened and Fin and Laura rushed out, heading back to the squad room. 

“Glad we caught you, Counselor,” Fin called.

“You forget something?” Rafael asked.

“This warrant you’re gettin’ us, we forgot to ask for limits,” Fin told him.

Laura ran a hand through her hair. “Guess we’re tired,” she said apologetically.

Rafael explained the boundaries of the warrant he was on his way to request. 

With a look at one another, Fin and Laura turned around and headed quickly for the stairs while Fin called his thanks over his shoulder. They hit the door to the stairway with Fin in the lead. Just before she followed him through, Laura turned back to Rafael and gave him a wink and a grin.

He was uncharacteristically cheerful for the rest of the day. 

The squad found what they needed that night, including an eyewitness who had lied to them when first questioned. By midnight, Rafael was satisfied with the witness’s statement and the witness had signed it and left. Finally, they could all go home. 

Rafael and Laura didn’t even discuss whether he would give her a ride home; he simply waited while she grabbed her things and she went with him to his car. She fell asleep on the ride home. 

They reached for each other’s hands as they walked the block from his garage to their building. They spoke very little. Rafael understood that Laura was too tired to deal with much conversation, and both of them were simply enjoying the feeling of walking down the street holding hands.

Laura put her arms around Rafael and rested her head against his chest as they rode the elevator to her floor. He walked her to her door and unlocked it for her because she seemed as though she was already falling asleep. 

“Give me a hug and go to sleep,” he murmured as she shuffled in. She turned around and they shared a long hug.

“I really, really want to invite you in,” she muttered into his shoulder.

“I’ve seen you sleep before, Detective. It’s very cute, but I think I’ll decline.”

She looked up at him. “If I wasn’t so tired I’d be very disappointed.”

Rafael leaned his head down and kissed Laura tenderly. He stopped after only a few kisses, put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. 

“Goodnight, Laura.”

“’Night, Rafael.”

Olivia had made all the squad members who had been working on the case take the next two days off, so Laura slept until noon. She woke up stretching and happy, and padded into her kitchen to make coffee. Her phone was on the counter next to the coffee maker, although she knew she hadn’t left it there. She picked it up, seeing that she had a text.

**Rafael:**  
Look in the refrigerator.

She did. He had come in while she slept, and left her a bag containing a fresh bagel and cream cheese next to a plastic container full of mixed fruit. 

Laura sent him back a picture of herself smiling broadly just as she was about to take the first bite of bagel. 

**Laura:**  
Dinner’s on me.

Rafael arrived earlier than Laura would have expected. She wondered whether he had left work undone to spend time with her. The idea gave her a warm glow. 

He knocked while letting himself in. Laura was sitting on one of the stools at the counter between her living room and kitchen texting with one of her brothers, but put the phone down as Rafael stepped in. 

“Hey,” she said, turning her chair toward him. He still wore his suit, although his tie was loose and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. The first hint of stubble had begun to show on his face.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Feel better?” He noticed that the hollows under her eyes from the night before were gone. In her flannel pants and T-shirt, with her hair still damp from the shower, she looked like she’d just awakened. 

“So much better. I slept until noon and then I spent a couple hours at the gym.”

They were a bit shy with one another at first. This was the first time they’d been alone together since they had made love, which put them in uncharted territory.

He took off his jacket, vest, and tie and hung them on the stool next to her. “What’s for dinner?”

“You tell me.” 

“Do I get to kiss you first?”

Laura smiled and reached for him. He wrapped her in his arms while she took his face in her hands. Their lips met and clung. For long minutes, they explored one another’s lips and mouths, breathing in one another’s breath, enjoying the luxury of knowing that they could finally kiss each other as they’d wanted to do for so long, and that they had all the time in the world to do it. Laura felt the stubble on his cheeks, ran her fingers through his hair, touched his lips with her fingertips, and ran her hands down, then back up his arms before putting her arms around his neck to concentrate on what he was doing with his tongue.

Rafael could feel Laura’s kisses deep inside. He began to lose himself in her; the way she felt and tasted, the way she was responding to him… 

“Dinner can wait,” he murmured.

They snuggled contentedly in Laura’s bed, still a little sweaty but breathing almost normally again. Rafael cuddled Laura against him, kissing the top of her head in the way she was starting to love. 

“How was work?” She asked. 

He shrugged. “Exhilarating.”

She chuckled.

“That’s a lie. I got nothing done. I was thinking about you.”

Laura felt a surge of emotion that kept her from responding. Instead, she squeezed him and turned her face to sprinkle kisses on his chest.

What he didn’t tell her was that thinking about her, and their weekend together, and knowing he would see her again tonight, had kept him half hard all day. It had been impossible to focus his mind. Uncomfortable as it was, it was also a sort of carnal affliction that had been missing from his life for way too long. And it wasn’t just the idea that he would be having sex. It was knowing he would be having sex with Laura. 

“Are you hungry?”

“I am now,” he answered, grinning. 

“Can we eat naked in bed?”

“Your apartment, your rules.” Rafael tried to think of a time he had ever done something like that. Who was this woman who was so different from him, and from any other woman he had been with, yet had such a hold on him? And why did he suddenly feel that eating dinner naked in bed with her was something he should have been doing all along?

As she paid the delivery woman, Laura was still shaking her head at the way Rafael had talked her into being the one to put clothes on and answer the door. They enjoyed a quiet dinner, talking and laughing as they always did, only now with Laura, once again naked, straddling Rafael and feeding him. Rafael disposed of the containers when they were done (his part of the “who has to get decent and answer the door” negotiations). When he returned to the bed, Laura pulled him to her and captured his mouth in a passionate kiss. 

“Tell me you didn’t bring work home,” she said breathlessly. 

“I should have, but I didn’t. I was hoping we’d put our evening to better use.”

“You know, Harvard, you may actually be as smart as you think you are.”

Getting to know Rafael’s body, and what he liked, was a joyful process of exploration and experimentation for Laura. She had been right, all those months ago when she imagined that he would be a luscious mix of tender, loving words and caresses, and passionate, demanding need. She had always found his voice sexy, and to hear him telling her what he was feeling as she made love to him, to listen to his moans and cries, was as erotic for her as his touch. Which was to say, extremely. She knew it was very early in their relationship, the stage when new couples spend all their time in bed, but she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be anywhere other than here, with Rafael. 

“Man, you know how to kiss,” Laura panted.

“Yeah?” He grinned.

“Oh, yeah.” 

Rafael wondered how he had gone so long without the glorious feeling of skin on skin, the silky warmth of a touch, the fiery passion and hormone-drunk afterglow, that came from being with a woman he really cared about. Recreational sex was fun, but this, with Laura… was something else. He wanted her to feel that way, too. He decided to spend extra time and effort using his fingers and tongue to madden and then satisfy her, showing her what he could make her feel. He wanted her to know that her pleasure was his primary goal. He had to admit that, feeling her shudder and hearing her cries as he made her come made him feel pretty good, too.

Much later, Laura spent several moments looking contentedly down at Rafael, playing with the hair on his chest. “Rafael, I don’t want to freak you out, but I want you to know…” Her voice was uncertain. “Hypothetically, if I said that I might have feelings for you…”

“I’d gloat for a while, probably tease you mercilessly, generally make an ass of myself.” 

“And then?”

“And then I’d tell you that I have feelings for you, too. Hypothetically.”


	34. La Roca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda Rollins is taken hostage when her cover is blown, and Rafael Barba pretends to be a hard-nose to scare a suspect into helping end the crisis. The team has a party to celebrate a successful resolution.

It was winter, but it was hot in the mobile command van. There were too many anxious people trying to do too many things to resolve this crisis. Amanda Rollins was not going to get out of this situation unless everything went right. There was no room for mistakes.

Laura Parker was at the very back of the van, talking with the one man who might be able to make things come out well for Rollins. But only if Laura was very, very careful. The guy was more afraid of his buddies in the storefront than he was of the police, and the only way Laura was going to be able to get him to cooperate was to change that. Which wouldn’t be easy, because this was a group that was into everything: drugs, guns, prostitution, trafficking in children for sex. And word had it that their leader had a bad meth problem. Great. Hair-trigger temper combined with paranoia and a complete lack of reason. The guy Laura was questioning, Manuel Ocampo, was not wrong to be afraid of them. Amanda was in trouble.

Laura heard a new set of noises in the crowded van - the sound of the door opening and new conversations - and caught a glimpse Rafael’s camel colored wool coat through a gap between cops. It gave her an idea. 

“_Mierda_[1],” she said, ostensibly under her breath, but loud enough for the man in the chair to hear.

“What?” He asked, seeing her demeanor change and looking in the direction she was scowling.

“Things did not just get better for you, Manny.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

Barba pushed through the crowd to stand before Laura, who was leaning over a disheveled, nervous-looking Hispanic man in khakis and a torn down vest over a hoodie. The guy had a cut on his cheek and his left eye looked like it was beginning to swell. 

Laura stood up fast, looking anxious and holding out her hand to Rafael. “Detective Laura Parker, Sir.”

He squinted at her as they shook hands. “Yes.” _What was she up to now?_

“Manuel Ocampo,” she said to the guy in the chair, “This is A.D.A. Barba. He’s the attorney who will decide what charges we file against you, and what sort of sentence the State will recommend to the court.”

Barba inclined his head slightly, waiting for a cue from Laura as to what she needed from him.

“Sir,” she said, turning back to him. “If you could just give us a few more moments…?” 

_Sir. That meant…_ “Why is this man injured?” Rafael demanded.

“Ummm, there was a chase, and a brief… ah, scuffle before the arrest.”

Rafael’s lips flattened and his brow furrowed. “Detective, we’ve been over this.”

“Yes, Sir.” Laura looked down at Manny, then at the floor.

“I can give you five minutes,” Rafael said archly. He turned to move back past cops and technicians monitoring video feeds, and other cops strategizing, toward the front of the van. 

Laura knelt down next to Manny. “You might be screwed, _jefe_[2].”

“Why? Who is that guy?” Manny started to panic.

“The last D.A. you want on your case, man. They call him _La Roca_[3]. You cannot impress him. And he never makes deals.”

“But I’m not even in there! I din’ do nothing! He can’t charge me if I din’ even do nothing!”

“You ran away from me, that’s resisting arrest. And we got about a million witnesses that say you’re part of this crew, that saw you leave this storefront earlier. You think he’s gonna believe ‘I didn’t’ do nothing’? Try it. Let me call him over right now and we’ll see how far that gets you with _La Roca_. He’ll put you away just for wasting his time.”

“Oh, man – “

“Look, Manny, this changes things. You gotta work with me now, man.”

“What do I gotta do?”

“Answer my questions. Tell me all about that place: doors, windows, layout, what’s inside, who’s in there. And I mean everything. You hold out on _La Roca_…”

“But they’ll kill me!”

“They’re across the street, barricaded in, with a cop as a hostage. They can’t bother you now, they got their own problems. But you… _La Roca_ is right here. And you got one chance. I’ll try to help you, but you gotta give me everything. Only way the world doesn’t fall in on you right now is if you help us end this thing.”

“All right, all right…”

“You ready to cooperate? I’ll call over my Lieutenant and the IRT Captain, but only if you’re ready to do everything you possibly can to help us take your guys and get those hostages out safe. Otherwise…”

“_La Roca_…” he muttered, nodding agreement.

As Olivia Benson and the Captain of the Incident Response Team listened, Manny answered questions and drew a map of the storefront and the rooms behind it. Rafael, standing on the other side of Manny from Laura, tried to remember to scowl as Manny snuck looks at him. It was hardest when Manny would lean over to Laura, still squatting beside him, and ask quietly if he was doing OK. Laura would flick her eyes at Rafael and nod gravely. 

When the IRT Captain felt she had enough information, she and Olivia formulated a plan. They were going to need Manny’s help, however, which was going to be delicate. Manny was still very, very afraid of the group holding Rollins hostage in the storefront. 

They knew Rollins would be working from her side, trying to convince the leader of the group to let the hostages go and end the situation. The situation was especially delicate because the hostage situation had begun when they’d discovered Amanda was an undercover cop. 

“All right, Mr. Ocampo, it’s time. We need you to call Esteban, try to get him to let you in,” Olivia told him. 

Manny looked up at Laura, who was strapping on a bulletproof vest in preparation for her part of the rescue. “This is it, Manny. This is where you _have_ to come through for us.” She sent a meaningful look toward Rafael, who stood with his arms crossed, actually looking pretty fierce.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, also looking at Rafael. “I’ll do it. Anything.” 

“Let’s go,” Olivia told Laura, and the two worked their way past the cops and technicians to the front of the van. It was a relief to Laura to step out into the cold, early-November air.

Rafael and the IRT Captain could hear the ringing through the speaker of Manny’s phone. 

“Yo, _ese_[4], why you callin’ me? Didn’t you get pinched? You with the cops?”

“Naw, man, I’m outside. Lemme in.”

“Whadda ya mean, outside? There’s cops all over the fuckin’ place, man.”

“I know! That’s why you gotta let me in. I’m just in back. I’m trapped behind a dumpster. You gotta let me in.”

“That’s your problem, man. I’m not opening the door. How do I know you didn’t call all these cops? How do I know you’re not with them right now?”

Rafael could see Manny start to revert to his long-held fear of Esteban. If he folded now… 

Rafael took a step toward Manny, lifting his chin in challenge. 

“No, No, Esteban, I swear, I’m right outside. I can’t keep talkin’, man, they’ll hear me. Let me in. And I got the stuff. Open up, man.”

“You got the stuff?”

“Yeah. I swear.”

“OK, I’m sendin’ Aguilar back there, but he’s only gonna open the door for like one second. And if there’s any cops there, I swear to _La Virgen_[5]…”

The line went dead.

Rafael elbowed someone aside so he could see the video feeds from the scope cameras that had been snaked into the storefront. All the hostages appeared to be sitting against a wall except for Rollins, who was duct taped to a chair toward the center of the room. She was in a terrible position if there was a firefight. 

Minutes later, the screen showed a chaotic scene with people running through the room. Rafael thought he saw Olivia deliberately knock Amanda’s chair over, shoving it roughly to one side to get her out of danger as much as possible. Rafael heard gunshots, but the chaotic video feeds on the screens told him nothing.

Manny started yelling. Without looking up from the video screens, Rafael held up a finger toward Manny, who instantly went quiet. 

The excitement was over in moments. The call of “Clear, clear, clear” came from the IRT Team Leader over every radio in the van. Rafael breathed easier, although he couldn’t tell whether anyone had been hurt. He worried about Olivia and Rollins, but he was especially worried about Laura. He knew Fin and Carisi were outside the storefront, not directly involved in the rescue. 

It seemed like hours before the IRT Team Leader announced that Esteban was dead and two other hostage takers wounded, and called for immediate medical help. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned wounded cops meant Laura was unhurt. But he still wanted to see that for himself. 

Several of the cops who had been in on the rescue came in, Olivia and Laura supporting Rollins to a chair. She still had duct tape on her wrists and ankles, but it had been cut to free her from the chair. She appeared unhurt, and to be arguing with Olivia about needing to be checked out by the paramedics. When she was settled, Laura went to the back of the van to where Manny still sat on a metal chair in the corner. 

“All right, Manny, I need you to stand up and put your hands behind your back,” she said, pulling handcuffs from her back pocket. 

“But I cooperated, though, right? What about _La Roca_?” He looked helplessly from Rafael to Laura as he stood. 

“You did good, Manny,” Laura said, cuffing his hands behind his back. “I’ll talk to Mr. Barba. I’m sure he’ll cut you a deal now.” As she pushed Manny toward the front of the van, past Rafael, she held out a fist behind Manny’s back. Rafael bumped it, neither of them breaking character. 

Dinner at Amanda’s that night was a spur-of-the-moment, noisy, chaotic affair. Carisi commanded the kitchen, strictly controlling who went in or out, shamelessly conscripting anyone who caught his eye whenever he needed something done, regardless of rank. Chief Dodds, for example, was currently chopping scallions while the IRT Captain stirred a red sauce that smelled phenomenal. 

“So here’s the Killa, fillin’ this boy’s ears with all kinda bullshit about how Barba’s the Antichrist,” Fin was animatedly telling a group of IRT officers. “And Barba’s just standin’ there, lookin’ like he’s about to eat a live baby. Poor hump was pissin’ his pants, couldn’t do enough to help us out.”

Everyone laughed, even those who knew the story by now. Partly it was because Fin was so obviously tipsy. It was probably about time to put the kids to bed in the girls’ room. As blood alcohol levels rose, there was a corresponding decrease in the politeness of the language used in the several conversations going on in Amanda’s small, very crowded apartment.

As Fin launched into the story of how Olivia had dumped Amanda, chair and all, to the ground during the rescue, Laura leaned over to Amanda. Amanda was settled comfortably on her couch, Billie in one arm and Jessie, sitting next to her, cuddled in with the other. Jessie was blinking with sleep. 

“You want me to get these ladies to bed?” Laura asked.

“Would you? That would be great.”

Laura took Billie in her arms, settled her, and reached out a hand to Jessie. “Let’s go, Princess.”

“Nooooooo,” Jessie began to whine.

“Uncle Rafa will sing you a song. But only one, and only if you’re good.”

“Does Uncle Rafa get a vote?” Rafael muttered grumpily in Laura’s ear, although he’d leaned down to pick Jessie up, clearly on board.

“C’mon, Noah,” Laura called to him, where he sat on his own mother’s lap, leaning against her and also looking very sleepy. 

“I don’t have to go to bed yet, Aunt Lala. The girls are babies. I’m a big boy.” 

“C’mon, _hombrecito_[6], we’ll sing the pirate song,” Rafael said, holding his free hand out to Noah, confident that such a treat would be all he needed. Noah loved to try to sing the song with Rafael, although he had no idea what the words meant.

Rafael and Laura quickly got the baby settled in her crib. Jessie made Rafael promise that she got her own song, since Noah got to hear the pirate song, which Rafael deftly negotiated in turn for her putting on her pajamas and brushing her teeth. Soon Jessie and Noah were under the covers in Jessie’s bed. Rafael sat on the side of the bed and began to sing the pirate song with Noah. Laura stood leaning against the door, watching how cute Rafael was with the kids despite his attempts to appear above such things. She felt a surge of love for him, so strong and tough when he needed to be, so soft when he allowed himself to be. 

Jessie and Noah fell asleep before Rafael was done singing the song about horses that Jessie had requested. Rafael smoothly stood, trying not to disturb them. He held his hand out to Laura as he came toward her, pulling her to him for a steamy kiss. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

“I thought you were having fun.”

“I’ve had enough conviviality for one evening. I want to take you home.” His insistent, progressively intimate kisses were very convincing. “I want to get my hands on you,” he growled.

Just then, they heard Carisi announce that dinner was ready and bark instructions about plates and things.

“Dinner’s ready,” Laura breathed as he sent chills down her spine with his lips. 

“You’re dessert,” Rafael muttered into her neck.

“Yes, Sir.”

[1] Shit

[2] chief

[3] The Rock

[4] Guy, dude, but with gang connotations

[5] The Virgin Mary

[6] Little man


	35. Danger and Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba is abducted by a vicious criminal he put in Riker's Island, who has vowed to kill him. OC Laura Parker and the SVU squad work to find him before it's too late.

The New York legal and penal systems were massive, ponderous bureaucracies that took forever to get anything done, and where mistakes happened with deplorable regularity. One of those common, administrative, regrettable but seemingly innocuous mistakes was not notifying Olivia Benson or Rafael Barba when Andrew Rhee somehow managed to get paroled from Riker’s Island. Which was supposed to have been flagged as a critical notification, because Andrew Rhee had sworn, often and on the record, that his first act as a free man would be to kill Rafael Barba.

Andrew Rhee was vicious. His barbaric treatment of the women he’d trafficked and put to work on the streets was notorious even for that monstrous business. Building and prosecuting the case that put him away was one of SVU’s proudest achievements. It had been hideous, tedious, heartbreaking work that took almost a year of slowly, painstakingly building trust with women who were too brutalized even to care about themselves, let alone to believe in the possibility of justice. 

Their stroke of luck, if you could call it that, came from the fact that Rhee’s savagery extended to everyone he came across. He’d betrayed a low-level pimp who had turned out to be even more vindictive than Rhee was. That had led to a wiretapped phone call, a recorded meeting, and an arrest on charges related to running the prostitution ring as well as conspiracy related to laundering the money from that ring. It wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t what they’d wanted or Rhee had deserved, but at least Rhee was in prison. Until he wasn’t. 

*****

Laura felt a large, warm hand snaking up from the back of her thigh, over her buttocks, and onto her back.

“It’s the middle of the night,” she whined thickly into her pillow.

“It’s six a.m. And since when do you complain when I wake you up the middle of the night?”

Laura pulled her pillow over her head. “Because this time you’re going to tell me it’s morning.”

“It is morning.”

“Told you.”

Rafael could hear muttered Spanish curses emanating from under the pillow. He smiled as he scooted closer and began to kiss his way from Laura’s shoulder to her back, and down her flank, chuckling victoriously as he felt her roll over to give him access to her breasts. 

“I thought we were working on making you more of a morning person.”

“Understandable mistake. You like morning sex. I just like the sex part, not the morning part.”

Rafael’s cheerful, dirty, promising laugh against her skin swept away the last of Laura’s sleepiness. She emerged from under her pillow to scoot closer to Rafael, running her hands over the parts of him she could reach. He was in a raunchy mood this morning, having been awakened by a very sexy dream, and by the time they had enjoyed all the positions he had in mind, they had to scramble to make it to work on time.

*******

The juxtaposition of the two phone calls probably saved Rafael’s life. The unit wasted no time making the connection because, at the same time Chief Dodds called Olivia to notify her of Rhee’s parole, Carmen called Laura to ask why Rafael hadn’t shown up for work. 

Amanda Rollins immediately got online, working to find Rafael’s car using license plate recognition programs available to the NYPD. That part was easy, too, because there was already a police report regarding the silver-blue Audi, abandoned still running and with the door open two blocks from Rafael’s office. Without discussion, the entire squad grabbed coats and sped to the location.

The passenger’s-side rear of the car showed clearly that it had been rammed off the street and into a street lamp, which was now embedded in the front grille. There was blood on the drivers’ seat and the door. 

Olivia tried to tell Laura that she could not be involved in the investigation. That lasted four tense, growled sentences between the two. 

“You’re too personally involved.”

“I’m going to help find him. Liv, you know I trained under Hank Voight. Do you want to work together, or do you want me on my own?”

“Don’t threaten me. I’ll allow you to continue as long as you do _exactly_ as I tell you. And you _will not_ go Voight on this. You go outside those parameters, I’ll cuff you in the back of a squad for the duration. Are we clear?”

“We’re clear.”

Laura wanted to work as part of the team. She had worked for Olivia long enough now to develop a primary instinct to do things right. But she wondered whether there was anything Benson, Fin, or anyone else could do to stop her from doing whatever it took to find Rafael. She doubted it. She clamped down on her fear, channeling all her energy into the laser focus and organized, systematic working of the situation she had been trained for. Find the bastard and get Rafael back alive. That was the mission. Emotion had no place here. Had anyone from CPD Intelligence been there, they would have recognized in Laura the beady-eyed, steely wiredness that Voight got when he was on the hunt.

Canvassing the area for witnesses, and collecting and reviewing footage from the many video cameras in the area seemed to take longer than it ever had before. The entire team was angry, on-edge, and restless. Laura was the one romantically involved with him, but Barba was a key member of the team, important to all of them. He was family. And he was in the hands of a vicious bastard who had vowed to kill him. They were all spoiling for a fight, not least Olivia Benson.

They found no witnesses who could tell them anything the first video camera didn’t. The city traffic camera on the corner nearest the crash scene showed a black SUV intentionally and ruthlessly ramming Rafael’s Audi into the streetlight, pinning it so it couldn’t move. The squad immediately began to assess everything in every frame of the video for information that would guide their next steps. They were able to read the license plate of the SUV, which had been reported stolen the night before. Laura and Fin were dispatched to talk to the owner, to see what they could learn that may lead them to Rhee. 

And the video clearly showed that it was Rhee who had crashed Rafael’s car and forced him at gunpoint into the back seat of the SUV. The squad was alarmed to see that, prior to even forcing him from the car, Rhee had brutally pistol-whipped Rafael. The level of anger in that short few frames was terrifying. Rafael did not have a lot of time.

As Fin and Laura tore out to interview the owner of the stolen SUV, Rollins and Carisi began combing traffic footage from the time of the crash looking for where the SUV had gone. Olivia worked the phones. She ordered the entire file and all the evidence on the Rhee case delivered to the squad room emergently, then began to gather all the intel possible on Rhee’s known associates and what they’d been doing since he’d been in prison. After that, she got to work on all his communications while he was in Riker’s – all phone calls and visitors. 

*******

The abandoned old house on Long Island took forever to reach. Rafael’s head was pounding, his face bleeding freely, and Rhee’s first action upon shoving him into the back seat of the SUV was to cuff his hands behind him so that he had no way of stemming the flow of blood. He was alarmed at the size of the ever-increasing spot on the upholstery where his head lay. 

He tried to talk to Rhee. Make a connection, right? Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? Make the kidnapper see you as a person? 

The problem was, Rhee already saw Barba as a person; a cocky, smart-ass lawyer with all the power of the state behind him, who had stood up in court for five days talking filth and telling lies about Rhee and his businesses. Disrespect didn’t come close to what he’d done to Rhee. The cops, Rhee didn’t give a damn about. Cops were impotent vermin he could outsmart any day of the week. But this little fuck, poncing around in his faggy suits, using twenty-dollar words when one syllable would do, convinced of his own superiority over someone like Rhee, getting Rhee sent to rot in prison… Oh, yeah. This prick had to die. And he would. But first, he was going to suffer.

He’d begun to plan his revenge even before the verdict came down. Rhee had plenty of friends. There weren’t a lot of people he trusted, but there were plenty of people about whom he knew things that could get them killed or busted. Plenty of people who owed him, or were afraid enough of him to do whatever he asked. So he’d learned about Barba – his home address, his family, his schedule, and he’d kept tabs on him. Anyone with Rhee’s connections could get that kind of information. He was sorry that his information indicated Barba was some sort of a monk – he would have liked to find some little piece of ass Barba was sweet on and make him watch while Rhee tore them apart in every sense of the phrase. Oh, well.

It was clear to Rafael that he wasn’t going to be bonding with Rhee when, at the first opportunity, Rhee had pulled off the road and given him a solid fist to the mouth. 

“Next time it’s my foot. Shut the fuck up.”

Being Barba, however, he’d spit out the blood and tried again a few minutes later. This time, he reminded Rhee about the number of times he’d threatened Barba in front of cops, fellow attorneys, and even the trial judge. Rhee had not made himself popular with New York law enforcement, even before he’d finally been caught. He was slippery and had relished every opportunity to taunt the cops, right up until Lieutenant Benson had finally found a way to arrest him. 

“You know it’s going to be obvious this was you. You might kill me, but you’ll just go right back to Riker’s. And this time, you won’t see the light of day again. Think about that.”

“Fuck you. Shut up!”

“You wanna stay out? Just pull over and let me out. That’s it. It ends here, we both go on with our lives.”

This time, Rhee used the duct tape he’d brought. He’d kind of been hoping for some crying and begging, which is why he’d left it off before. He should’ve known this arrogant little asshole wouldn’t cooperate.

Rafael tried not to wonder whether anyone had noticed him missing yet.

*******

Fin leaned hard on his forearm against the throat of the guy pressed up to the wall of his stuffy, cluttered office at the back of his Asian restaurant. 

“You really, really wanna talk right now. ‘Cuz your buddy’s gone and kidnapped a D.A., and nobody’s gonna blink if I mess up a lowlife like you gettin’ him back.” 

The fear and pain on the fat man’s face didn’t stop him from gulping air and telling Fin to go to hell. Fin heard Laura unsnap her holster and draw her Glock. 

“Move, Fin.”

“You hear that? My partner’s done with this polite chat we’re havin’. She ain’t gon’ shoot you in the head, neither, ya feel me?”

“Screw you,” the fat man coughed out.

Fin pulled him from the wall and shoved him, bodily, into a sitting position in his chair. Laura stepped to him and put the muzzle of her gun into his crotch. He froze, breathing heavily, his eyes round as he looked from Fin to Laura.

“You sure about this, Killa?” Fin looked concerned. Laura honestly didn’t know whether the concern was an act for the benefit of the fat guy coughing and sweating in the chair. It wasn’t an act. Fin knew more than anyone how serious things had become between his partner and Barba. That, combined with the look on her face and the rusty iron in her voice, made it less than even money that she was bluffing.

“I’m gonna count to three, and then I’m gonna make you real sorry you didn’t just answer my partner’s questions. One.”

“Fuck you. You can’t do this-“

“You’re watching me do it. Two.”

“You can’t – I can’t tell you anything. Rhee’s a maniac. He’ll kill me.”

“You probably won’t care that much once I shoot off your dick. Three-“

“OK! OK! Fuck!” 

Laura didn’t shoot, but didn’t move the gun, either. In fact, she shoved it painfully into his groin.

“Talk. Now.”

According to the fat man, Rhee had been working with some of his former associates while he was in prison, paying them through a girlfriend with access to his hidden bank accounts. At first, he’d just been buying information about the D.A. who had sent him up. More recently, when it looked like Rhee might be able to make a deal that would get him out early, he’d wanted more concrete things. Exactly what, the fat man didn’t know. But he knew enough to have no doubt Rhee had taken that D.A., and had some grisly plans for him.

Having exhausted threats, Laura had broken the guy’s nose getting the names of the former associates who had helped Rhee prepare to kidnap Rafael. 

“Dude’s nose was already broken when we got there,” Fin noted as they rushed out of the restaurant to their squad car.

“Whatever,” Laura agreed. “How’d I get his blood on me?”

“You’re a helper.”

“Ah.”

“Call Liv. Let her know where we’re headed.”

*******

The walk from the car past the ramshackle, weed-choked house was unpleasant but uneventful. Rafael was not about to try anything physical. Not with his hands cuffed behind him and his ears still ringing from Rhee’s latest punch in his face, administered as he pulled Rafael from the car and threatened more if he tried anything. He wondered what Laura would do in his position. _ She probably wouldn’t be in this position_, he thought. _She’d have kicked the guy’s teeth down his throat, arrested him, and be explaining to me right now why it wasn’t her fault while I gave her shit about it_. The thought of Laura, going about her day, having no idea what was happening to him, made him physically sick. Or maybe that was the blows to the head. In any event, he couldn’t think about her. It made his heart hurt to think what she would go through when she learned he’d been abducted. And probably killed. 

Rhee pushed Rafael ahead of him to an outbuilding that was as dilapidated as the house. Rafael saw when he was shoved through the door that it was a stable that had apparently housed horses at one time. The first room had been a tack room; there were hooks and shelves for harnesses and saddles, and a sort of built-in series of cupboards. From there, they passed into the stable itself and he saw that one stall had been fitted with floor to ceiling iron bars. Given the fresh sawdust and the debris of a wooden gate that had been removed, Rafael guessed this crude cell had been built especially for him. Lovely. He tried very hard to be annoyed. It helped keep the terror at bay.

*******

Between them, the squad determined which two of Rhee’s “associates” named by the fat man were most likely to know where he was. Fin and Laura went to see one, while Olivia and Carisi went to the other. Rollins stayed in the squad room, coordinating communication and trying to keep control of the help being offered by Chief Dodds and D.A. McCoy. She sent the extra detectives provided by Dodds to see the other associates on the fat man’s list. She tasked the investigators on loan from the D.A.’s office with reviewing traffic cam footage and the files from SVU’s previous investigation of Rhee. 

They would find Barba in time. They had to.

*******

The madam Fin and Laura burst in on looked very young to be running a brothel staffed by underage boys and girls tricked into believing they had been offered opportunities in the U.S. and then, upon arrival, forced into sexual slavery. She also looked very old to be as young as she was. Too bad. She could be a victim another day. Today she was standing between SVU and getting Rafael home safely. 

Fin tried to bully her. She’d been bullied for as long as she could remember by men who hit first and threatened later. Laura tried to shame her. She laughed. Fin tried to bribe her. She was interested, but ultimately couldn’t agree to a deal because she knew what Rhee would do to her. Laura smacked her around a bit, and that seemed to have a small effect, but not nearly enough. Fin raged and threatened all kinds of legal and financial disasters if she didn’t cooperate. Although that had no effect, the difference between her reactions to Fin and her reactions to Laura told them both what would work. They didn’t need to discuss it. They’d been working together long enough and closely enough to have little need for words in this situation.

“Fin,” Laura said quietly. “Get out of here.”

Fin turned to her from where he’d been standing, looming over the madam. He didn’t say anything, just looked at Laura.

“Take a walk,” she said in that hard, cruel voice he’d heard when she’d spoken to the fat man, made more threatening by the fact that now she was almost whispering.

“Man, I don’t know…”

“You don’t want to be here for this.”

“Killa, you know we’re already on thin ice…”

“Don’t worry. You weren’t here.”

The madam looked from one to the other, fear showing on her face for the first time. Laura reached down and lifted a pant leg, pulling a knife from a sheath strapped to her ankle. Fin walked past Laura to the door.

Keeping her eyes on the madam, she said to Fin, “Go.”

“I’ll be right outside the door,” he told her.

“Don’t worry about what you hear.”

“I ain’t tryna hear nothing,” he said, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. 

Laura was shaking as she approached the madam. The madam noticed that. She also noticed the subtle but unmistakable muscle definition in Laura’s arms, and the animal way she moved. She’d noticed the blood on Laura’s shirt the minute they’d walked into the room, but hadn’t thought much about it until this moment. That, and the look on Laura’s face, made the madam wonder whether Rhee was the one she needed to be afraid of right that moment. Had she ever heard the name Hank Voight, she would have known the answer.

Fin heard a harsh exchange of words too quiet to make out, then a stifled cry of pain followed by heavy breathing. He hoped he wasn’t hearing the end of his and Laura’s police careers. Then he thought about what he knew about Andrew Rhee, and the fact that Barba was in Rhee’s control right this minute. He pointedly ignored the scuffles and muffled screams that came through the door over the next five minutes.

When Laura came out of the room, she closed the door before Fin could see the madam. There was fresh blood on Laura’s shirt and arm and she was wiping the tip of her knife with a tissue. 

“She’ll be fine. There’s a house on Long Island. We need to get back to the station.”

*******

Rhee had apparently not been to the house before. He threw Rafael into the cell, gave him a few halfhearted kicks in the ribs, then closed and locked the bars at the entrance. Through his one good eye, Rafael saw him check out the soundness of the bars, then look around the stable, lifting objects and opening boxes stacked near the wall opposite the cell. There were tools in one of the boxes. Pliers. Jumper cables. And in a plastic case, there were vials and syringes. Rafael began to gag just as Rhee left the stable, giving no hint of where he was going, or when he would return.

The late winter afternoon light was almost gone.

*******

Amanda had made good use of the investigators and extra detectives in the squad room. They had learned quite a bit about Rhee and the people he’d been involved with before his incarceration. They were fairly sure they’d identified his girlfriend, and Amanda had sent two detectives to find her and bring her back. If anyone knew where Rhee would go, she should. 

Fin and Laura arrived at the squad room just before Benson and Carisi. The two of them had obtained a list of some of the things Rhee had obtained from prison. It wasn’t good. Olivia had decided that Laura didn’t need to know everything on the list. They would talk about the food and other survival supplies. She didn’t need to know about the other things. 

Laura reported what the madam had told her. The madam hadn’t known much about where it was, but she knew that there had been a house out a ways on Long Island that had been a brothel, but was no longer used after Rhee went to prison. Pressed, the madam had said that it took somewhere between one and two hours to get there from Manhattan, and that it was in the middle of nowhere. 

Once they knew they were looking on Long Island, the places to look for the SUV on traffic cameras narrowed significantly. To get from lower Manhattan to Long Island, Rhee would have to cross the East River, and it made sense to start with the bridges closest to the crash scene. Knowing the time of the crash and the direction Rhee likely went, the D.A.’s investigators divided up the potential routes and scoured traffic, and found the SUV crossing the Williamsburg Bridge about twenty minutes after the crash. It was impossible to see the men in the SUV, so there was no way to tell what Rafael’s condition had been at that point. But it was a start. 

The problem was, there were too many places to look once the SUV crossed into Brooklyn. At first, they easily followed it along the Brooklyn Queens Expressway. But that ended once the SUV reached the massive, tangled interchange where the BQE met the Long Island and Queens Midtown Expressways, an impossible snarl of highways with innumerable ramps and service roads. With the added problem of inoperative cameras at some locations, after an hour and a half of looking, they had simply lost the SUV and had too many choices to quickly pick it up again. 

Everyone’s taut nerves jangled with irritation and several none-too-professional exchanges occurred before D.A. McCoy quietly but firmly put an end to them and refocused efforts. He put his most computer-savvy investigators on mining real estate records, matching them against the names of known Rhee associates and businesses he had owned or been involved with. If they couldn’t find the SUV, they needed to find the house.

******

Olivia refused to allow Laura anywhere near the interrogation of Rhee’s girlfriend. Laura figured that she wouldn’t be able to be very effective in questioning her, anyway. Laura was too liable to go off, given her anxiety level and the lateness of the hour, and she knew neither Dodds nor McCoy would tolerate any Voight-level tactics. She wished Voight was here. She desperately wished Rafael was here. 

At that moment, Laura promised herself that, when she saw him next, she was going to tell Rafael the truth about her feelings for him. However frightening it might be to him, he deserved to know that she was in love with him. She began to think about the possibility that he might die without ever hearing that from her, but the tears that threatened were mercilessly blinked away and the thoughts pushed roughly down. There was work to do. Rafael was out there, in pain and in extreme danger.

*******

Rhee returned about two hours after he’d left. When he let himself into the makeshift cell, there wasn’t much Rafael could do, handcuffed and lying on the filthy, straw-strewn floor. Even when he saw the syringe in Rhee’s hand, he could only kick at him and struggle away, until Rhee used his weight to pin Rafael’s legs and shoved the needle roughly through his shirt and into his arm.


	36. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The SVU team and the DA's office work to rescue Rafael Barba from his abductor before it's too late.

Laura was not alone in being sick with worry, fear, anxiety and frustration. The entire squad room full of cops and investigators were tired, edgy, and ready to explode. They all knew what Andrew Rhee, the newly-paroled violent criminal who had threatened to kill Rafael, had done to other people whose sins against him were far less than putting him in prison. And he’d had Rafael under his control for the past fifteen hours.

Rhee’s girlfriend, Dina, was much luckier than she knew that D.A. McCoy had remained to assist in the effort to recover his prosecutor. More than half the people in the squad room would happily have burst into the interrogation room and beat information out of her if he hadn’t been there, and that included Chief Dodds. 

It wasn’t that Dodds was particularly fond of A.D.A. Barba. He could take him or leave him. For Dodds, the problem was Dina. She was a piece of work. Her nasal Long Island accent was made only more irritating by the whiny, entitled tone she used to say pretty much everything. She had as little respect for cops as her boyfriend did, and was enjoying her moment in the spotlight. Dodds, who was used to going home at a reasonable hour, was about to ask McCoy how strongly-held the Mayor’s position on waterboarding really was. 

Laura had stopped being able to listen to the interrogation some time before. First, she’d spent time talking with her team, trying to come up with something – anything – that would help them narrow the search. They were getting nowhere, and were now only irritating one another going over old ground. She’d just decided to offer her help to the investigators trying to find connections between Rhee and real estate on Long Island when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned around, jumpy, cross, and ready to bite the head off of whoever was unfortunate enough to have made that mistake. The angry words died in her throat when she saw that it was Peter Stone. The look on his face and his defensive posture told her that she’d obviously betrayed her annoyance and readiness to fight.

“Damn it, Peter, I just about decked you.”

“I see that. I guess that answers my question about how you are.”

Laura sighed and looked sheepishly up at him. “I’m sorry. Bad night.”

She let him pull her into a brief hug. 

“I heard about Barba. I thought you could probably use a friend.” 

She led him to her desk, which one of the on-loan detectives had just vacated, and offered him her chair. She perched on the edge of the desk. “Do me a favor,” she said quietly. “Don’t be nice to me. I’ll cry. And right now I need to be pissed and ready.” 

“I understand. Anything new?”

“Not a fucking thing. We got Rhee’s girlfriend in the box, but she’s having the time of her life and not saying jack. Damn, I miss Voight.”

He grinned. “I bet.”

“Fin and I got some good results earlier today in ways he would approve of.”

“Don’t tell me details I can’t know, especially in front of my boss,” he looked in the direction of the D.A.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She smiled for the first time in hours. “All we know right now is there’s some house on Long Island, in the middle of hicksville, that may or may not be where he’s being held.”

“Hicksville? You’ve narrowed it down to the town he’s in?” Peter looked surprised.

“What?”

“Hicksville. It’s a town on Long Island.”

“Fuck!” Laura jumped up from her desk to run into Lieutenant Benson’s office. Dodds sat at Benson’s desk, with Carisi and Rollins, as well as a couple of his on-loan detectives, standing around.

“Hicksville!” She shouted. “She said the house was in Hicksville, but I thought she just meant the boondocks. I’m not from here, I didn’t know it’s the name of the town!”

Dodds jumped up and stormed into the interrogation room to refocus the questioning. Carisi and Rollins took two of the other detectives to the squad room table to work out the time window while Laura went to shout orders to the investigator using Fin’s computer.

“Hicksville! We need all the traffic cameras in and around Hicksville. Now!”

Peter came to stand behind Laura as she vultured over the investigator’s shoulder. She could feel his comforting presence just barely touching her. She turned to look up at him, giving him a distracted one-armed hug. “You’re a genius.”

He hugged her back. “Because I know the name of a town on Long Island. Low bar.”

A tortured look crossed her face. “Remind me to kill myself for not knowing that. God, Peter, how much time did I just cost him?” Tears formed in her eyes.

“Pissed and ready, Sunshine. Remember?”

“Right. Right. Pissed and ready.” She squared her shoulders, clenched her teeth, and turned back to the investigator isolating traffic cameras.

******

Andrew Rhee had actually pulled up a chair to watch Barba’s agony. He wasn’t quite sure what the large dose of epinephrine he’d given Barba would do to him – his cellie at Riker’s had said it depended on the person – but it was apparently terrible, and that was good enough for Rhee. Severe headaches and chest pain were supposed to be pretty much a given, and he could see that Barba was writhing, sweating and shaking with chills, all the while fighting to breathe. 

Rhee had torn the duct tape from Barba’s mouth so that he could hear him scream. That would’ve been nice, but once again, Barba disappointed him.

Huh. It probably sucked, but somehow, even with the foamy mucus Barba was coughing up, this wasn’t quite as much fun as Rhee had hoped. He hurled insults and taunted Barba, but couldn’t tell if the detestable shit could even hear him. 

*******

Carisi and Rollins had worked with the other detectives to calculate a rough estimate of the time it would take to get from Manhattan to Hicksville at the time Rhee had abducted Barba. McCoy split the assembled cops and investigators into teams of two, each team using that half-hour time span to narrow the amount of footage they needed to view. Laura had looked a question at Peter, who had instantly pulled her visitors’ chair next to where she sat at her desk to team up with her watching the footage from her assigned cameras.

“Let’s get your boyfriend back,” he murmured.

“Remind me to tell you how much I love you,” she murmured back, leaning her shoulder into his. They didn’t notice the several raised eyebrows around them.

*******

Olivia continued to try to get information from Dina, but despaired of getting any results. She had tried most of the techniques she could think of, but there wasn’t much she could do with a woman like that. So when Dodds had knocked on the window to let her know they were closing in on the SUV, she decided it was time to go nuclear. She called Carisi in. 

“You want me to _what_?” 

“Charm her. Give her those baby blues, get the dimples goin’, you know. And heavy on the Staten Island.”

“Oh, man, Lieu, couldn’t we just let Parker loose on her?”

“Get in there. And be charming, damn you.” 

Benson had never heard Carisi drop the F-bomb, which made the string of profanity he let go that much more expressive. But she didn’t relent.

She and Dodds watched as Carisi settled in at the table with Dina, all limbs and awkward apologies for the long interrogation. He offered her a drink by way of a compliment.

“Girl like you, I’m guessing some kind of fancy tea, am I right?” He leaned on his forearm, braced on the table, so that he was looking up at her from a few feet away. Even Olivia could feel that smile. _I need to be using him more often. That’s carnal, what he’s doing right now._

Dodds made a noise. Olivia stole a look at him, expecting to see derision on his face, and was amused to see something that looked surprisingly like admiration.

When he had brought them both a cup of tea – _I’ll have what she’s having, that’s good, too_, Liv noted – Carisi settled in with his chair just a touch too close to Dina for professionalism. “Listen, Dina, I’m guessing you know what this is all about, why we brought you here.”

“I know, Detective, but I can’t tell you anything I didn’t awready tell that othuh chick. I dunno wheah Androo is.”

“Hey, can I ask you? That accent, where you from? Me, I’m raised in Staten Island, always like to hear someone who sounds like home.”

“Lawng Oiland. Massapequa. I thawt I heard some Staten Island in theah,” Dina preened.

Olivia mentally cringed, both from this woman’s desperate need for attention, and from her own failure to send Carisi in two hours ago.

“Massapequa, that’s near Hicksville, yeah? I got some cousins in Hicksville.” 

Dina may have been needy, but she was also wary. At the mention of Hicksville, she cooled a bit. “Yeah, well, ya’ can’t expect me to know everyone on Lawng Oisland.” 

Sonny’s hurt look was so genuine, even Dodds wanted to comfort him. “Naw, I wasn’t tryin’ to… I know you been through a lot tonight. I was just makin’ conversation.”

“It’s OK, Detective… what was your name again?”

“It’s Carisi, but everyone calls me Sonny.”

“Sonny.”

“It’s Dominick, but my father’s Dominick, so…”

“I must know twenty Dominicks,” Dina said, leaning closer to him.

“Well, now it’s twenty-one,” Carisi smiled, dimples fully deployed.

*********

Rafael was freezing. All of his muscles hurt from shivering, and he felt like he’d run a marathon tied to the back of a speeding truck. He was exhausted. At least he could breathe again. His heart still thundered in his ears, but he didn’t think his head was going to explode with each heartbeat anymore. Now that he knew he wasn’t going to die right this minute, he was pissed. He’d lost track of time as he’d heaved and cringed through what he had been sure was a massive heart attack. The waves and waves of adrenaline shooting through him had felt like lightning and, though he had been very preoccupied, he’d also heard Rhee’s mocking voice through the ordeal. 

He was not going to give Rhee the satisfaction of any reaction he could possibly contain. That, he thought, was something he could control here. And he knew Rhee was keeping him alive so he could enjoy those reactions.

He saw Rhee get up and start rummaging in the boxes stacked against the wall across from the makeshift cell. Rhee took out something that might have been a whip. Rafael started to sweat again, even though he was in only his shirtsleeves in the unheated stable.

_Well, now it’s a party_, he thought. 

*********

Half an hour later, Fin and the investigator he was working with had found the black SUV exiting the Long Island Expressway at Hicksville. They had been able to follow it past the mall and caught it turning onto Broadway, but where the area turned residential, the cameras thinned out and they lost it again.

Olivia asked Dodds to let Carisi know where they were. As Dodds knocked on the door and stuck his head in, she noticed Carisi move his body so that he put his arm around the back of Dina’s chair, as though Dodds was talking to both of them.

Jack McCoy had stepped to the window to watch the interrogation now that they had exhausted the traffic cam footage. Several teams were still working real estate records, and he had sent three different investigator teams out to talk to C.I.s who might be able to provide information about the location of a former brothel in Hicksville. When Dodds re-closed the door after giving his message to Carisi, he nodded to McCoy and Benson and went out to the squad room. They were getting close.

“We’re going to need IRT,” Dodds said to the room in general, picking up the first phone he came to.

********

“You robbed me of five years of my life,” Rhee told Rafael as he lay, sweating and bleeding. “That was a mistake. Now it’s time to pay.”

“You’re right. You robbed at least three people of all the years of their lives. I should have been able to convict you on that.” It was hard to choke those words out past the pain in his chest from the kicks Rhee had delivered. He hadn’t yet used the whip. Given how much the kicks had hurt, and continued to hurt, Rafael was kind of hoping he’d switch to the whip. 

“You think you’re _so_ clever. So superior. And yet here I am with all the power, and there you are, crawling around in the dirt like a worm. I bet you’re thinking about what it will be like to die.”

“I don’t usually get existential when I’m sober. But if you got any scotch…”

The whip whistled through the air and tore a hole through the shoulder of Rafael’s shirt that went into his flesh. Rhee was obviously not an expert with it, or maybe it was a cheap S&M toy, but it stung quite enough. Rafael hated that he’d let out a yelp when it hit him, but it had been more from surprise than real pain. 

*******

Dina didn’t know the address of the house in Hicksville. But she did know the name of the shell company that owned it. Within ten minutes of getting that information, the NYPD had the address, and Dina, to her great disappointment, had been locked in the squad room lockup to be dealt with later. 

Chief Dodds took charge of the assembled cops, communicating with the Incident Response Team to plan a rendezvous outside Hicksville. Fin had an arm across Laura’s shoulders, while Peter held her hand on the other side. She wasn’t fooled by the show of support. She knew it was just as much preparation to restrain her in the likely event that became necessary. IRT took forever to assemble and brief, and Hicksville was over an hour away. She was coiled so tight Fin wondered whether she was going to launch herself across the room at Dodds.

When the interminable briefing was finally over, Olivia pulled the SVU squad together and tried to make more detailed plans with them. Each of them was too tense, angry, and restless to tolerate much more waiting. 

Olivia pointed into Laura’s face. “You gonna be able to do this right?”

“Holy shit, Lieu, let’s just go already! There’s five of us, there’s no need to wait for fucking IRT. We can have him back long before they can get rolling, and you know that.”

“Detective, I understand you’re upset. But we will do this by the book. Don’t make me lock you in with Dina.”

Laura squeezed her eyes – and her mouth – shut.

“All right. Let’s go.”

The squad burst from the squad room like someone had lit a fuse. Just before leaving, Laura turned to Peter where he still stood next to her desk. She pointed at him and mouthed across the room, “Best. Friend. Ever.”

********

The whip was actually kind of fun. But it turned out to be a piece of crap that broke as soon as Rhee started to get into it. He was going to have to go back to his toolbox to find something else to torture Barba with. Before that, however, he thought he’d spend some time telling Barba what he thought of him. Barba was cold there on that floor. That could be enough pain for now while Rhee explained to him what a piece of shit he was. More duct tape first, though. Barba was apparently a smartass no matter what condition he was in.

*******

The drive to Hicksville seemed to take a lifetime. Fin tried everything he could think of to get Laura to spool down a little. Finally, when he reasoned that she needed to save her energy for what was coming, she made a sincere effort to breathe deeply and calm herself down. Whenever visions of what might be happening to Rafael threatened to break into her consciousness, she imagined his smiling face and chanted to herself, “Pissed and ready. Pissed and ready.”

When at last they reached the rendezvous, Dodds and the IRT team commander were arguing about whether the multiple police vehicles should have their lights on right now. Laura sent a pleading look at Olivia, who made an “I got this” gesture and stepped over to them. 

“Gentlemen, I will be happy to officially measure them later. But for right now, put ‘em away. One of ours is being tortured one mile from here, and we have a job to do. We have a plan, we’re all here now. Let’s douse the lights and get this done.”

Much of the team ran the last quarter-mile, splitting up so that they came upon the house from different directions. That way, the few vehicles that drove closer would be less likely to catch Rhee’s attention. Laura was glad for the run. It helped her burn off some of her nerves, and let her feel she was doing something.

But then all activity ceased. They were all instructed to keep absolute radio silence except for commands and emergencies. From behind a tree fifty yards in back of the outbuilding, which looked like a barn or something, Laura looked through the dark over at Olivia. Crouched behind her own tree, Olivia made a pushing down motion. Laura did not want to be told to relax. They could see lights in the barn. There were none in the house. Rafael had to be in the barn. _Why are we not storming that shit like the goddamn apocalypse?_ She bounced up and down with anxiety. She shot a distressed look, hand lifted in pleading, toward her Lieutenant. Olivia scowled and made the pushing motion again. Laura stamped her foot.

Olivia rolled her eyes, looked around, and ran in a silent crouch to where Laura was.

“Wait for instructions. There’s a reason the IRT is here,” she whispered harshly. “Don’t make me knock you out when we’re this close.”

Laura swore under her breath, shooting a look at the barn.

“Parker…”

At that moment, they heard a cry of pain that Laura knew was Rafael. _He’s alive! And he’s fifty yards away. How many times have I told him I’d never let anyone hurt him?_

She turned to Olivia, eyes hard. “You want my shield, fine. But you’re gonna have to come get it. You know where I’ll be.”

Laura silently and warily, but quickly, crossed the empty yard between the treeline and the barn. When she reached it, she flattened her back against the wall beside the door. The door was a simple series of wooden planks on hinges; the latch was mounted on the door and just lifted up to sit in a catch on the doorframe. It wasn’t latched. 

Olivia’s voice came through Laura’s earpiece, alerting the team of what she’d done. When Dodds’ voice came on, ordering her to stand down, she pulled it from her ear and let it hang down onto her shoulder. _Here comes career number three_, she thought. 

She used her foot to ease the door open ever so slightly, listening for a squeak. There was none. She moved the door a bit more, as slowly as possible, waiting for any telltale resistance that might lead to a squeak. When it was open enough, she dropped to her knees, then her stomach, and took the quickest possible peek through the crack. 

_Fuck!_ There were two rooms, and the door to the first wasn’t in line with the door to the interior room. She wouldn’t be able to just shoot Rhee from where she was. She elbow-crawled back, slowly and silently, until she could stand up. Again, she flattened herself against the wall and used her foot to open the door, a few millimeters at a time. 

When she had the door open just enough that she could slip through, she moved away from the door and took off most of the tactical gear she was wearing. She would have liked to remove the vest, but it was secured with Velcro, which would make too much noise. She left everything but her weapon lying in the light snow on the ground. She wondered why Olivia hadn’t crossed the yard to join her, but didn’t have much time to care. 

Slowly, slowly, she slipped through the crack in the door. From where she stood, she could see that the inner room was a stable, with stalls for horses. She stood for moments, thinking and listening to Rhee’s voice as he berated Rafael. She was glad. His monologue would hopefully cover any noise she made. With deliberate, precisely controlled movements, Laura stepped to the side, leaning her head so that she could see into the stable. She crept close to the wall between the tack room and stable, and peered around the doorframe as far as she dared.

She saw the makeshift cell, but couldn’t see Rafael because of the wooden walls of the stall. She stayed where she was, because she could see from the shadows that Rhee was in the stall with him, standing over him. She heard a noise that sounded like Rhee stomping on Rafael, followed by a loud groan. She saw red.

She heard a sound she couldn’t identify, followed by Rhee’s taunting voice. “Let me get that tape off, just in case you want to scream for me.”

_C’mon, Rafa, make some noise. Piss him off. Get him yelling. I need some cover here._

Rafael began to trash-talk Rhee in Spanish. It was perfect. Rhee, who didn’t speak Spanish, became enraged, demanding that Rafael speak English. Laura noticed that some of the things Rafael was saying were distinctly funny, and hoped that she wasn’t going to betray her presence by something as stupid as laughing at the wrong moment.

“All right, you fucking beaner,” Rhee cried, “That’s it. It’s playtime.” 

Laura heard Rafael make a sound that was half laugh, half groan, as he told Rhee in Spanish that he was Cuban, not Mexican, and he really wasn’t in the mood to play. Rhee wasn’t really his type.

Laura risked a look around the doorframe. Rhee was squatting down, looking into boxes that sat on the floor across from the cell where he was keeping Rafael. 

With his back to her.

In three strides, Laura was across the room and throwing a forearm across Rhee’s throat. She jammed the muzzle of her Glock into the back of his head before he could react. He startled, but quickly froze, knowing his situation for what it was.

With her forearm, Laura put just enough pressure on his trachea to restrict, but not completely block, his ability to breathe. She leaned down and placed her mouth near Rhee’s ear, hissing in a voice dripping with fury. “The only reason you’re not dead yet is I wanted you to know it was me who killed you. You pissed off the wrong bitch.”

She looked over then and saw Rafael, bloody and shivering but alive, where he lay on the dirty, straw-strewn floor with his hands behind him.

“You can’t shoot me. You’re a cop.” Rhee’s effort to sound cool and amused was belied by the shake in his voice. 

“Oh, but I can,” she cooed nastily, turning back to him. “See, that’s the other thing you did wrong. That guy?” She indicated Rafael. “He has lots of friends. Lawyers, judges, cops… all with one thing in common. They hate your ass. You’ve provided me with the perfect witness. When he and I say you got killed trying to resist?” She leaned even closer and whispered, “How many questions do you really think they’re gonna ask?”

She knew she had him when he didn’t respond or move.

“So you got one chance. _One_ -” She jerked her forearm roughly across his throat. “Of walking out of here. And that’s to do _exactly_ what I tell you, and nothing else. You speak, you surprise me, you piss me off in any way and they’ll be scraping you off that wall. And you know what I’ll do then? I’ll go out for drinks with half the cops and lawyers in the city and we’ll laugh and drink to your demise. Nod if you understand.”

He hesitated, but eventually nodded slightly. He looked livid.

“Excellent.” 

Without looking away from Rhee, Laura called out, “_Rafael, puedes andar_[1]?”

“No. _Estoy esposado_.[2]”

“_Cómo?_[3]”

“I’m cuffed,” he said in English. 

“Did you just say you’re engaged?”

“It means handcuffed, too. It’s not a pun in Spanish. Just… can we talk about this later?” 

She leaned in to Rhee again, and her voice completely changed, back to the hate-filled growl she had been using on him. “Oh, bitch. At this moment, I want you dead almost exactly as much as I want to see you die in prison. Please do something stupid, I beg you.”

Rhee said nothing, just knelt seething with her arm across his throat and her gun to his head.

“You’re gonna very, very slowly put your hands behind your back. Fuck up. Please fuck up.”

She took her arm from around his throat and moved slightly back, reaching behind her to pull her handcuffs from the back of her slacks. Rhee hesitantly, shakily put his hands behind him and allowed her to cuff him. When she’d done that, she raised her arm and knocked him unconscious with the butt of her Glock. _What the hell. I’m already out of a job._

Laura saw Olivia enter the stable just as she stood up to go to Rafael. Which meant Olivia had seen Laura pistol whip Rhee when he was already cuffed. 

Laura quickly released Rafael from the handcuffs and helped him sit up, groaning and trying to move his excruciatingly stiff shoulders. She put her hands on his forearms, looking into his bruised, cut face. His right eye was fairly well swollen shut and she could see the white was stained with blood. 

“How bad are you hurt?” She asked, reaching up to touch his face, half to examine his wounds, and half simply to be touching him. He put his hands on her waist, trying to comfort her even though he was the one injured. 

“You know something?” He asked, his voice hoarse and ragged. “And I mean this in the best possible way. You’re a scary bitch.”

Laura actually laughed at that. “You just noticing that?”

She put her arms gently around him and tried to hold him without hurting him. He grunted a little, but held her close for a moment. She lightly kissed his split lip as they heard Olivia radio the all clear, notifying the team that the suspect was in custody and the scene secured. Olivia also called for the medics to come immediately. 

Leaning on the bars at the entrance to the cell as she holstered her weapon, Benson said, “The cavalry will be here in a minute. It’s good to see you alive, Rafa.”

“Thank you.” The depth of his gratitude was evident in his face as he looked up at her, and in the fact that he didn’t bother to add any sarcastic commentary.

Olivia went to check on Rhee, who was beginning to make noises as he returned to consciousness, giving Laura and Rafael privacy as they waited on the floor for the few moments it took for the team to arrive. They simply sat, close together, foreheads touching, occasionally kissing softly. 

“You knew I was coming, right?” Laura whispered, smoothing down a lock of his hair.

“I knew.” 

“You really do have a lot of friends, you know. Every second, half the NYPD and most of the D.A.’s office were trying to find you.”

He didn’t answer. He seemed too emotional to try. 

She had very little control of the emotion in her own voice as she whispered thickly, “_Te amo, Rafael. Tanto._[4]”

“_Me di cuenta que_.[5]”

“I should’ve told you a long time ago. When I thought you were going to die without knowing…”

“I knew. Shhh… I knew.” 

Although there were a few looks between those who were surprised to see Parker kissing and holding hands with Barba, the cops were in full-on business mode. Gossip could wait. Fin and Rollins pulled Rhee roughly to his feet and began escorting him out. 

“Hey, I want to make a complaint. That bitch threatened to shoot me in cold blood, and then she cold-cocked me!” He whined.

“My girl,” Fin said, smiling over at Laura. “Now shut up before I kick your ass in cold blood and knock you out again.” 

As the paramedics tended to Rafael, Laura stood just outside the cell next to Olivia. She knew what was coming, and she appreciated Olivia’s willingness to wait to fire her until Rafael was safely on his way to the hospital.

“That was really stupid of Rhee, coming at you like that.”

Laura blinked her attention away from Rafael. “What?”

“After you cuffed him. When he tried to rush you and you had to knock him out.”

Laura gaped. “It was, um…” 

“I know what it was. I saw it when I came in. Remember?” 

The tears that Laura had ruthlessly squashed down pooled in her eyes. “I remember. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“We’re gonna talk about this again. But let me handle Dodds. You go to the hospital with Barba.”

Laura left tears and the last of her makeup on Olivia’s bulletproof vest as she hugged her with all the relief and gratitude she felt. 

*******

Late the next morning, as she sat next to Rafael on his hospital bed with her legs tucked under her, Laura traced the line of a cut across his arm where the whip had laid his skin open. Fortunately, it was one of only a few, but it was going to leave a scar.

“I have so much to say to you,” she began. “But I know you’re tired. We’ll talk about it later. Just… I love you.”

“So you said.”

“I meant it.” 

“I know.” Rafael’s eyes twinkled as he smiled the teasing, pleased smile that belonged only to her.

Laura smiled the first real smile since Rafael had been abducted. 

[1] Can you walk?

[2] I’m handcuffed.

[3] What?

[4] I love you, Rafael. So much.

[5] I noticed that.


	37. Parental Guidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You deserve some fluff after all the drama. Rafael Barba comes home from the hospital and - shock - is a terrible patient. OC Laura Parker's parents come for a visit and Rafael invites himself to dinner with them, to Laura's concern.

As anyone who had ever met him would expect, Rafael Barba was a terrible patient. He grumbled and complained and snarked through two days in the hospital and an enforced two-week leave from work while the worst of his injuries healed. The broken ribs were going to take longer, but when the doctor began talking about a longer leave, things had gotten tense fast. The doctor had fully advised him of the need to rest, but that was all she could do. Barba was going to do what he was going to do.

“I’m a lawyer,” Rafael sniped. “Not a professional gymnast. I can work hurt.”

Laura set a cup of fresh coffee next to where she’d settled him on his couch. She had been listening to him gripe the entire drive home from the hospital, in between comments and criticisms about her driving and the rental car she’d chosen for him. She stepped back and decided she didn’t like the angle at which he was resting, so she took another pillow from his bed and put it behind him.

“Laura, I’m fine. Stop fussing.”

She went into the bag she’d picked up for him at the hospital pharmacy and picked out the bottle of pain pills. Filling a glass of water from the tap, she brought it into the living room and handed it to him along with one of the pills.

“I don’t need this. The pain’s not that bad.”

“I didn’t ask. Take it.”

“Were you always this bossy when you were a nurse?”

“Take the pill.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Then why are you being a particular pain in the ass right now?”

“I’m always a particular pain in the ass. I’ve been trying to tell you that.”

“Take the pill, Harvard, or I swear I will put on a Jane Austen movie and hide the remote.”

“Patients have the legal right to refuse treatment.”

Laura sighed in exasperation and sat down on the coffee table in front of him. “OK. We’ll do it the official way. Give me a number.”

“It’s not bad. It’s like a six.”

“Your pain is at six out of ten, you have pain medication in your hand which it’s time for you to have according to your doctor’s orders, and you’re giving me shit about taking it. What’s wrong with this picture?”

Rafael rolled his eyes, took the pill, and handed Laura the empty glass. 

“Ugh. That was tap water.”

“Have me indicted. Now, do you have everything you need?”

“No.”

“What else can I get for you?”

“Sit by me. Give me a kiss.” 

Laura grinned and shook her head fondly. _Oh, how she loved this cranky, sweet, adorable man. One minute he was getting on her last nerve complaining, and the next he was giving her a rare, privileged peek at the real, loving man beneath the crusty shell he hid behind._ She shifted from the coffee table to sitting on the edge of the couch next to where he lay. She leaned down and carefully put an arm on either side of him, placing all her weight on her arms, and trying not to touch his chest. 

“I love you, you handsome, grouchy man.”

She gave him a soft, slow kiss, and was surprised when he put a hand behind her head and pressed her lips more firmly to his. The kiss became very serious, very quickly. 

“Oh,” Laura panted when they came up for air. “So that’s what the ‘tude is about.”

“It’s about a lot of things,” he said, looking at her with eyes already dilated with lust. “But since Liv forced me to make an appointment with her counselor, I’ll let him deal with most of them. There is one thing, however, that you in particular can help me with.”

She shifted position so that she could begin to stroke him through his sweatpants while they continued their deep kisses. “We’re going to have to be careful for a little while but, lucky for you, I happen to be a very naughty girl.”

“It’s one of my favorite things about you- oh, fuck, Laura, do that again.”

*******

The evening was surprisingly warm and calm for April. Rafael smiled as he walked the block from his garage to his apartment building, thinking about the features his new car had that the old one had not. He felt good. Happy. His injuries were fully healed and, to everyone’s relief, he didn’t seem to have any post-trauma issues. It was very good to be back to normal. 

He let himself into Laura’s apartment, calling for her. Stepping into the living room, he looked surprised to see a man and woman he’d never seen sitting comfortably around her coffee table. 

“Oh! Uh… hello,” he stammered.

Laura came around the corner from the kitchen, pleased but a little bewildered to see him. “Hey.” Turning to the couple, she said, “Mom, Dad, this is my… neighbor, Rafael Barba. Rafael, this is my mom and dad, Carol and Ed Parker.”

“Your neighbor who has a key to your apartment,” Ed mumbled under his breath. 

Rafael shook hands with Laura’s parents, then turned back to Laura.

“What’s up?” She asked warily. _I thought we agreed we weren’t doing this. I thought I gave you a pass on having to deal with the Ed and Carol Show. What are you up to, Rafael?_

“I just stopped by to see if you wanted to order dinner. Sorry, I forgot your parents were coming.” He moved toward the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you both –“ he began.

“Well, I’m hungry. Why don’t we all order dinner?” Carol asked brightly.

“Mom,” Laura said, “Don’t put him in that position. He’s probably exhausted.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss a chance to get to know your parents.” The glee in his eyes was unmistakable. 

The penny dropped. “_Coño_.[1] You so didn’t forget my parents were here,” she muttered, quietly enough so only he could hear. 

Rafael stepped around her toward her parents. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Oh, I think we’d better rely on you for that. Something fun, though. Something New York,” Carol enthused.

“I’ll figure something out. Let me go change out of my work clothes, and I’ll order something you’ll love.”

Carol and Ed quickly agreed.

“Great. Back in a few minutes.” He headed toward the door.

“No.” Laura said in a low voice, following him.

“It’s fine,” he said cheerfully, “It’ll be fun.”

“Rafael, _no vas a interrogar a mis padres_,[2]” Laura snarled through gritted teeth, stepping in front of him. 

He smiled gleefully at her, then turned around. “Are you two wine drinkers? A friend gave me a bottle of a really expensive red. I can’t share it with Laura, so… how about I bring that with me?”

Both Laura’s parents nodded and made sounds of approval. Rafael turned again toward the door, nearly stepping into Laura. 

“_No vas a emborrachar a mis padres y los interrogará_,[3]” she growled. 

“Be right back,” he said, stepping around her to the door.

“_Que te folle un pez_.[4]” She hissed.

“So vulgar. I should never have taught you that.” He gave her a wicked grin.

As Laura returned to the living room after he left, Carol fell dramatically back into her chair. “Oh, he is _yummy_,” she cried. “Pleeease tell me you’re sleeping with him!”

Ed humphed. “For heaven’s sake, Carol.” 

Laura rolled her eyes and uttered a disgusted, “Mom!” 

The Indian food Rafael ordered turned out to be the perfect choice, and the wine lived up to its price tag. Only Laura appeared to be having a less-than-wonderful night. Rafael was charming and polite, entertaining the Parkers with amusing work stories that had, so far, not been too hard for her to sit through. But she was still tense. 

Rafael found himself really liking the Parkers. They were interesting and intelligent, witty and literate. He almost wished he hadn’t needled Laura, making her think he would try to get her parents to tell embarrassing stories about her. The evening might have been perfect if Laura could relax. He wasn’t sure why it was so much fun to give her a hard time. But it was.

“I have to tell you, I don’t always find your daughter the easiest person to deal with. Nobody does.” He gave Laura a sideways grin. “So why is it that everybody seems to forgive her for everything?”

Both Carol and Ed began to laugh. Laura sat up straighter.

“That’s funny?” Rafael asked.

“You have no idea,” Ed laughed ruefully, pouring himself another glass of wine.

“We have three kids,” Carol explained. “The boys, they were always typical. And they always got caught. Our daughter, on the other hand…”

“I can only say I’m glad she’s on the right side of the law.” Ed said. “Because I wouldn’t envy your chances of ever prosecuting that girl.” 

“Hey… sitting right here…” Laura complained.

Ed continued. “She’s in eleventh grade, caught in our car – which she didn’t have permission to be driving, by the way – parked with a bunch of her girlfriends out by Miller Park, all stoned out of their minds on marijuana -”

“Not that we ever learned about this from the police,” Carol interjected.

“Oh, no. Because Laura talks the officers who busted them into driving the car back to our house and dropping them all off. No charges, no calls to parents, no nothing.”

“How the hell did you do that?” Rafael asked Laura.

“I’m persuasive,” she smiled sweetly at him.

Carol continued the story. “We only learned about all this years later, when she was in college. We get a call from one of her friends who wants to know how to contact her at Northwestern.”

“And she just happens to mention,” Ed laughed, “that she’s one of the girls who didn’t get arrested with Laura that night. She tells us this whole story, thinking we already knew it and we were just having a laugh about old times.”

Even Laura joined in the general laughter. 

“I hope you’ll get a chance to meet Laura’s brothers while they’re here,” Carol said.

“Oh, so the whole family is in town,” Rafael said, surprised.

“We like to visit once a year; we get to see Laura and enjoy the city… Our sons are at a baseball game with a friend of Laura’s from Chicago. Hey, he’s a lawyer, too, you might know him. Peter Stone?”

“I know Peter Stone.”

“Nice guy, that Peter,” Ed commented.

“He is.” Laura agreed, turning to look directly at Rafael. “He never tries to embarrass me.”

Laura’s phone buzzed.

“Yeah, Carisi,” she answered. Her voice and manner changed entirely; suddenly she was all business. “Text me the address. I’m on my way.”

“Sorry, you guys, I have to go.” Laura got up from the table and headed to the bedroom. 

“Hanrahan?” Rafael asked, referring to a particularly violent serial rapist and killer SVU was currently working to catch.

“Yeah,” she called over her shoulder.

“It’s late,” Carol said to Rafael, concerned. “Does she really have to go to work?”

“I’m afraid that’s kind of the nature of the job,” he answered.

Carol crossed herself. Ed frowned deeply.

“You know, I understand that you’re concerned for your daughter’s safety. I am, too. But listen. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.” Rafael leaned toward them and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “To tell you the truth, the bad guys are in more danger from her.” 

She came out then, fastening her shield to her vest. 

“Oh, Lord, Laura, that gun is huge. Can you actually … use that thing?” Carol asked. 

Rafael stood up. “You have a backup?” He asked quietly.

“I got a full clip,” she assured him.

“Laura, it’s Hanrahan.”

She skipped a beat, then nodded once and turned back toward the bedroom. 

Carol and Ed exchanged a significant glance. Had they just seen their daughter defer to someone else without argument? In just that small exchange, they had glimpsed a powerful bond of respect and trust between Laura and Rafael. Clearly, they needed to take this man seriously, because Laura obviously did.

She returned moments later, stopping on her way past the table to show Rafael the drop gun in a holster on her right ankle, and the knife in an ankle sheath on the left, both concealed beneath her jeans. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll use harsh language.”

He nodded, unsmiling.

Laura brushed a kiss on her mother’s cheek as she rushed toward the door. “I’m sorry, you guys. Don’t wait up, I probably won’t be back tonight.”

Carol crossed herself again.

After Laura left, the Parkers and Rafael settled in the living room with coffee. Rafael was intensely curious how the conversation would go now that Laura wasn’t in the room. Would they make small talk? Would he get interrogated about the nature of their relationship and his intentions? Although he and Laura hadn’t kissed in front of her parents, there had still been a fair amount of touching and flirting. They couldn’t help it.

Carol settled on the couch next to Ed, facing Rafael who sat in an easy chair across the coffee table from them.

“I have questions,” she said guilelessly.

“Carol…” her husband rumbled.

“Well, I do. Are you in love with Laura?” 

“Yes.” 

Rafael had no idea why it was as natural as breathing to acknowledge his love to these strangers, when he hadn’t yet found the courage to acknowledge it to her. He also wondered whether he just had. Would the first thing her parents told Laura when she returned be that Rafael had told them he loved her? He didn’t even know what to hope for there.

“Is she in love with you?”

“She says she is.”

Ed, having been married to Carol for close to 40 years, knew that the next question out of his wife’s mouth was going to be whether this man was having sex with their daughter. Ed would strongly prefer not to know the answer to that question. Besides, he would never give up hope for Laura and Peter Stone. He loved Peter like a son. He had been devastated by their breakup. Not that he wasn’t willing to give this Rafael Barba a chance, but Ed was always going to be Team Peter. In any event, he needed to intervene before this line of questioning went any further.

“Just how dangerous is Laura’s job?” He asked.

To Ed’s relief, Rafael began to share with them some of the lighter stories about Laura’s run-ins with criminals during her career with SVU. He didn’t think these nice people needed to know the grittier details of SVU’s work, or that he should be the one to tell them.

The following morning, just after dawn, Laura quietly let herself into Rafael’s apartment. She had a vague idea of slipping in and out without waking him, but he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom before she had crossed the living room. 

“You’re bloody.”

“It’s not mine. I was hoping to borrow a shirt? I don’t want to have to deal with my parents about this.”

“You may have to deal with me about this. It’s in your hair. What happened?”

“We got him. But not before he shot a couple more people. Killed one, the other isn’t looking too good. Why don’t you go back to bed? It’s early…”

“I’m up now and, call me crazy, seeing you covered in blood sort of has me awake.”

“Well… I guess I should take a shower, get the blood out of my hair.” She looked at him from under her eyelashes, a coy grin on her lips. “How awake are you?”

Rafael shook his head and smiled. “With your parents just downstairs?”

“Speaking of which, what was that? I told you I didn’t expect you to meet them.”

“Yes, you did. But you never asked me if I wanted to. I did, so I… ignored you.”

“Ignored me.”

“Mmm-hmm. They’re delightful.”

“Ignored me.”

“That’s what I said. About that shower?”

“It sucks that you’re so hot. Because I would very much like to be mad at you right now.”

“That _is_ unfortunate.”

Rafael stepped over to Laura and untucked her bloody shirt from her slacks. She smiled up at him as he pulled it over her head and tossed it on the floor, taking her into his arms. 

“Did you just throw a piece of clothing on the floor? Who are you, and what have you done with Rafael?”

“You are a terrible influence.” He kissed her deeply. “In so many ways…”

Under the hot spray, Laura clung to Rafael, kissing him and murmuring to him all the mushy, romantic, sometimes sexually explicit things that she felt for him. Although he felt the same way, there was always a line he just could not cross. He wanted to. He longed to hurtle across that divide and wax eloquent about his love for her with the kind of abandon she was capable of. But he just… couldn’t. It was in his mouth to declare his love for her every minute, but the words simply wouldn’t form. He tried to show her in every way he could the things he couldn’t make himself risk speaking out loud. Which is why, in this moment, she was just beginning to gasp in that rhythmic way he’d been aiming for.

[1] All-purpose swear word

[2] You are not going to cross-examine my parents.

[3] You are not going to get my parents drunk and cross-examine them.

[4] I hope you get fucked by a fish.


	38. Can't Do This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone is reeling from the murder of his sister, who died in his arms. OC Laura Parker tries to help, much to the dismay of Rafael Barba.

Peter was drunker than Laura had ever seen him. She’d seen him in pretty much all stages of intoxication: from pleasantly buzzed to feeling no pain to shitfaced. But never like this. She was actually driving faster than she should, on the slim hope that she could get him up to his apartment before he passed out. She seriously doubted there was any way she’d be able to carry him, even in a fireman’s carry over her shoulder. She didn’t want to find out. If the trip from his office to his SUV was any indication, he was going to be enough trouble even when he was bearing a little of his weight. And Olivia wasn’t here to help. Laura now regretted saying she thought she could get Peter home without her. 

Even the dangerous amount of bourbon he’d drank in his office hadn’t blotted out Peter’s pain. How could it? What ever would? Only hours before, Peter had watched his older sister be murdered, and had held her in his arms as she died. Laura, who had met Pam only a couple of times, felt like nothing would ever be OK again. She could not even begin to imagine what Peter was feeling. 

He was still crying softly, still muttering incoherently about the horror he’d witnessed and the hellish guilt he felt. Laura was very afraid for him. She looked over at him as he leaned against the passenger window, eyes closed and likely entirely unaware of his surroundings. As she turned into the parking garage under his building, she said yet another heartfelt prayer for him.

He didn’t stir when she pulled the SUV into his parking space and turned off the engine. She walked around to the passenger door and opened it, catching him as he tipped out, moving with the door he’d been leaning against.

“Oooookay, Peter, I’m gonna need you to stand up now.” She unfastened his seat belt and guided his feet toward the door. 

He muttered something incoherent and basically fell out the door. Having expected that, Laura was standing very close, so that he fell on her, rather than the ground. She supported him while he laboriously stood up, pulling his arm around her shoulder and putting her arm around his back. 

“Good job, now let’s walk. Dang, why do you have to be so big?”

“She said my name,” Peter slurred, all but incomprehensibly, as they stumbled toward the elevator.

“I know she did, sweetheart. Keep going.”

As they reached the elevator, he began to sob again, leaning most of his weight on Laura as he threw his arms around her. All she could do was rub his back and murmur comforting words to him. This was feeling way too fucking familiar. It hadn’t even been two years since she’d held him while he grieved for his father. When the elevator arrived, he didn’t let go of her, so that she had to push/pull him with her into the car. She leaned him against the wall and pushed the button for his floor.

Somehow, she got him into his apartment and onto his bed, where within five minutes he passed out. Saying a silent prayer of thanks for that small mercy, Laura pulled and wrestled him out of all but his underwear and covered him with a sheet. She braced him on his side with pillows, just in case he vomited. Sweaty and winded, but relieved to have Peter safely in bed, Laura sat next to him for a while, just watching him sleep. She smoothed her hand over his hair, aching for this beautiful, generous, and loving man, already wounded, whose life had just taken another destructive hit. She let herself cry without restraint, now that there was no one there to see or hear her. When she was cried out, she kissed Peter’s temple and went to his living room to call Rafael.

“How is he?”

“Passed out. We let him get way too drunk, but we didn’t know what else to do.”

“You want me to come get you?”

“Thanks, but I need to stay here. He’s gonna be sick as hell in the morning, and he’s got a lot to do tomorrow.”

There was a strange silence from Rafael’s end of the phone.

“So… um… I’ll come home and change sometime tomorrow, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you.”

“I’m sure he’s been drunk before. He doesn’t need a babysitter.”

It took Laura a moment to know how to respond to that. “I… maybe not, but he shouldn’t be alone right now. And I don’t want him to have to make Pam’s arrangements alone, either. I don’t know who else there is. So…”

“Well, let me know when you have time for me.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Because you’re sleeping at your drunk ex-boyfriend’s place? Nooooo. I’m cool with that.”

“I’m not – Rafael, you do know what happened to him today?”

“Yes. I know. It’s very noble of you to be there for him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it when he wakes up from his whiskey coma.”

“OK, you know what? I cannot do this with you, Rafael, not right now. So I’m gonna just say goodnight and I love you, and I’ll-“

Barba jabbed the red button to end the call and threw the phone down on his desk as though it burned him. Laura was spending the night with Peter Stone. His Laura. Was spending the night with Peter Stone, with the chin and the abs and the strut. Peter Stone with whom she shared phone calls that involved giggling. Peter Stone who had been her live-in lover for – how many years was it? Too damn many. A sickeningly familiar torment bloomed within his gut. No. This was not happening again. Not with Laura. Please, God, not with Laura. Rafael just made it into the bathroom before he heaved his guts out.

Laura looked at her phone, trying to convince herself that the call had just been dropped, though she knew it hadn’t. She didn’t know what to do. Text him an apology, maybe? But for what? Helping a friend in appalling circumstances? Then she thought about how she would feel if Rafael was spending the night with a woman he’d been involved with, “taking care” of her. She’d be crazy jealous, even if she knew there was nothing going on. And Rafael had good reason to be sensitive to anything that looked suspiciously like cheating. Laura texted a bare “I love you” and hoped for the best. He didn’t respond.

She changed into a T-shirt from a pile in Peter’s closet, found a bucket and put it on the floor next to him, and set a towel and a glass of water on his bedside table. She made sure he was still safely on his side. After she laid down on his couch with a blanket, it took her a long time to fall asleep, the conversation with Rafael playing over and over in her mind. She felt terrible for doing anything to remind him of a horrible time in his life, but there was no way she could leave Peter right now. 

Laura was awakened from a light sleep by the sound of Peter moving and coughing in the next room. She jumped up from the couch and ran in to his bedside to find him flailing and blundering around in an effort to get up quickly. She helped him sit him on the edge of his bed, handed him the bucket, and sat next to him, supporting him and rubbing his back while he threw up. When he seemed done, she gave him the glass of water to rinse out his mouth, dried his face with the towel, and laid him back down. She hurried cleaning out the bucket. It was very unlikely this was the only time Peter would be puking this morning. 

There was very little light in the sky yet. Knowing he was going to be waking up, probably frequently, Laura took the blanket from the couch and laid down on top of the covers on Peter’s bed.

“Is it… when is it?” He croaked. Laura realized he was still drunk, and probably not confused about the time of day but about the year. If it was the present, why was she here helping him when he was sick? She hoped he could fall back to sleep.

“Everything’s OK. Go back to sleep.”

“Did… Did Pam die?”

Laura rolled over and put a hand on his back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, she did. We’ll take care of everything later. Get a little more sleep.”

Peter groaned mightily but seemed to fall back into a troubled sleep.

The next time he woke, the sun was fully over the horizon, although still pretty low in the sky. He remembered the bucket was there, and Laura knee-walked across the bed to sit behind him, again rubbing his back while he heaved. After he rinsed out his mouth she asked him if he wanted mouthwash, or to brush his teeth, but he was already flopping back onto the bed. 

When she returned with the clean bucket, she made him take a couple of aspirin with some water from the glass she’d refilled. He asked her why she was there.

“I’m taking care of you,” she said simply.

“Why?”

“Because I want to. See if you can get a little more sleep.” 

“I killed my own sister. You should just let me die here.” 

“Go to sleep, Peter,” she told him, lying back down. “You did everything right, and you’re not gonna die. You’re just hung over. I promise, it’ll be OK.” 

“How will anything ever be OK?” He asked, his voice breaking. He was facing away from her, sobbing into his pillow. She put her arm around him and scooted to lay against his back. He smelled like sour sweat and bourbon, but she silently held him while he cried himself back to sleep. 

Laura woke when the sun was well up. Seeing that Peter was messily, snoringly asleep, but all right for the moment, she padded into the kitchen to start some coffee. Soon, she heard him throwing up again in the bedroom. When it was over, he seemed fairly awake and somewhat sober, although he was a mess. 

He ran his hand over his head several times, groaning. “Gaaaaaaahh. I feel like shit.”

“Don’t try this at home, kids, I am a professional.”

“Bit of a role reversal for us, huh?”

“Little bit. Think you can get into the shower?”

“Do you have your gun with you? Couldn’t you just shoot me?”

“Liv made me take the day off. Can’t shoot you on my day off.”

Peter leaned down, his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands. “How the fuck am I supposed to do this? I killed my sister. I don’t even know how many times she was shot…”

“Oh, sweetheart, you can’t…” She caught herself about to tell him not to feel guilty. She knew better. She remembered too well the frustration of having well-meaning people tell her how to feel after she’d been attacked. She was not going to be the one to do that to Peter. 

“I know you feel guilty. You think if you’d done something different, she would still be alive. I disagree, but I understand that’s how you feel. The thing is, all that is just too big for us right now, OK? How about we take it one step at a time. Today, let’s just think about Pam. She’s the most important thing right now. You need to grieve for your sister. And we need to make some arrangements for her. That’s plenty to deal with for today.”

“How can you – I am the one-“ He couldn’t find words to continue.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. I don’t know how to help you with that part. But we will deal with it. After we take care of Pam. OK?”

Peter sighed deeply, his breath shaking a little. “OK.”

“First things first. Coffee? Or shower?”

“Coffee in the shower.”

“Excellent choice.”

While Peter was in the shower, Laura called Melinda Warner at the M.E.’s office. She wanted to be able to spare Peter any gruesome details she could about the autopsy that was legally required following a murder. Not that there was any question about Pam’s cause of death. But Laura knew the futility of trying to make that argument.

“Dr. Warner, it’s Detective Parker, Laura Parker from SVU? I’m calling you about Pamela Stone. She came in late yesterday afternoon…”

“Yes, I know the case you’re talking about. A.D.A. Stone’s sister, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how much you know about her death, but her brother was there and witnessed the shooting.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah. He’s a good friend of SVU, and a… special friend of mine, so I’m hoping you can help me figure out when she might be released so we can make funeral arrangements for her.”

“Liv got here before you. I’m doing the case this morning. I hope to be able to release her to her family tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank you,” Laura teared up. “I can’t thank you enough, Dr. Warner. This means a lot to me. I owe you.”

“Thank Liv.”

“I will. But this is important to me. I’m grateful.”

“You’re welcome.”

“One more thing…”

“I will call the results to Liv when I have them. She can call you. Stone can call me for the results if he wants, but my office won’t call him. OK?”

Laura swallowed around the lump in her throat and tried to control her voice. “Thank you. I am way in your debt. I’ll let A.D.A. Stone know you did this. He’ll owe you, too.”

“Can never have too many favors to call in.”

The day was long and painful, as Laura had known it would be. Peter seemed to be on autopilot, saying little and showing no emotion about anything. Laura was moved to tears a few times. Peter, not once. He kept trying to push decisions on Laura, who gently pushed them back to him. Not that she didn’t help, but he would have gladly let her make all the decisions for the sister he’d known his entire life, and she’d only met a few times. That seemed wrong. 

When they’d done all they needed to do, Laura made Peter eat dinner. He wanted nothing, which she understood, but she knew he’d feel better if he ate something. When he’d finished mostly pushing food around his plate, they left the restaurant and he drove toward her apartment building. 

“Are we… picking up clothes?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“Yeah, but…”

“We both have to work tomorrow.”

“We… Peter, no one expects you to go back to work tomorrow. Take some time.”

“Why would I do that?”

“_Why would you do that_? Seriously?” 

“I’m not just going to sit around feeling sorry for myself. What’s the point of that?”

“How about to process the nightmare you just went through?”

“I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be processing whether I’m working or not. Might as well be working.”

The conversation went on for some time, with Laura trying to convince Peter to acknowledge that his sister’s death was a major trauma, and Peter determined to minimize it. Finally, Laura had to admit defeat. There was nothing she could say that would move him to even allow her to stay with him for another night.

“OK, listen. I can’t force you to do anything, so I’m not gonna try. But Peter, this is big. It wouldn’t be normal if it didn’t kick your ass. You should… let it.”

“_Let_ it?”

“Yeah. It’s gonna anyway. This stuff, if you don’t take it straight on, it’ll come out sideways.”

“Well, if it does, I’ll deal with it then.”

Laura threw up her hands. “All right. Well, you have my number. Promise me something.”

“Sure.”

“Use it. When you need me, call me. Anytime. Please?”

“I will.” He smiled indulgently at her, although the smile involved his lips only; nothing else about him was smiling.

“I mean it. Promise me.”

“I will, Sunshine. I promise.”

After hugging as best they could across the console between the seats, Laura and Peter said goodbye and she watched him drive off. She didn’t believe him. She was worried. 

**Laura:**  
Just got home. U here?

Shit. Now Rafael had a decision to make. He was home, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to see Laura. Plead work? Exhaustion? Ebola? He’d been turning the decision around all day, and he still didn’t know what to do. Berating himself for being a coward and an idiot didn’t help. Finally, he just said fuck it. The sooner he saw her, the sooner whatever was going to happen would happen.

**Rafael:**  
Here. Everything OK?

**Laura:**  
Will be when I see you. Can I come up?

**Rafael:**  
Just you?

_Rafael, please don’t be a dick. I’m too tired and too worried about Peter for that shit._

**Laura:**  
Just me.

**Rafael:**  
_Vamos arriba._[1]

Laura thought Rafael looked tired. Rafael thought the same about Laura. It didn’t make him feel better. 

Rafael still had his suit pants and dress shirt on, although the jacket and tie were nowhere to be seen. A few of his shirt buttons were undone, just enough for Laura to catch a glimpse of dark chest hair and want to undo some more buttons. Her ancient Chicago Blackhawks jersey wasn’t sexy in the slightest, especially with those damn old jeans with the holes in the knees. But he still felt helplessly drawn to her.

“Are you too mad to let me give you a hug?” She asked, walking over to him without waiting for his answer.

“_Si tu tienes que._”[2]

“_Tengo que._”[3]

He didn’t want to be so happy to have her in his arms, holding him tighter than normal. He wished his body wasn’t responding to her closeness, especially when she started kissing her way from his ear across his cheek, and he couldn’t help turning his head to capture her lips with his. Nothing about the way he kissed her, angry and demanding, felt voluntary. Especially when she kissed him back with an equally intense need, biting at his lower lip almost hard enough to hurt and crushing him to her. The sudden desperate hunger he felt for her took him by surprise, and she was right with him. 

Very soon, her back was against the wall of his home office and they were kissing fiercely and invasively while she pulled at his belt and they fumbled to undo buttons and zippers in their frantic haste to remove each other’s clothes. Laura’s long hockey jersey was getting in Rafael’s way, so he took a moment to tear it off. She reached inside his now-undone pants and boxers to take him in her hand, while he groaned and pushed his pants off. He pulled at her jeans the moment he stepped out of his pants, but only bothered to free one leg, which he wrapped around his waist so that he could pull her hips forward and bury his cock in her. There was no finesse or attempt at romance. There was only a raw, furious need to be as intimately connected as possible. Both grunted and moaned as he thrust into her, her arms locked around his neck and her leg around his waist. She rocked her hips into him, wanting him as much as he wanted her and needing this reassurance that they were still together, still a couple.

When he felt they were both getting close, he hooked one foot around the leg of a straight-backed chair that sat against the wall near where he had Laura pinned. He pulled it toward them and turned them both a quarter turn so that he could sit and pull her onto his lap. She immediately straddled him and put her feet on the rungs of the chair so that she could raise and lower her hips, pulling off of him and then impaling herself on him again. He recaptured her lips, plundering her mouth with his tongue and groaning with his impending climax. Putting a hand on either hip, he began to pull her toward him as she rode him, dragging her clit against him. It didn’t take long. She buried her face in his neck and uttered a wordless shout as her orgasm exploded upon her, and pulled him over the edge with her soon after. 

For long, sweaty, moaning and gasping moments after they finished, they clung together as though for survival. Laura began peppering his shoulder and neck with kisses, turning her head to cover as much of him as she could reach without letting go.

“I hate it when you’re mad at me,” she said between kisses and gulps of air.

“I’m not mad at you,” Rafael assured her, squeezing her just a bit harder with his arms low on her back and across her shoulders. 

“Please let me stay.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled. 

[1] Come on up.

[2] If you have to.

[3] I have to.


	39. Cataclysm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone is on a rampage, drinking way too much and picking up random strangers to try to ease his guilt and pain over his sister's death. OC Laura Parker tries to be there for him, putting a huge strain on her relationship with Rafael Barba. Between Laura's attention to Stone, and his own wounds from the past, Rafael decides to kill the relationship before it kills him.

As spring became summer, Peter ducked Laura as much as he could. She called, she texted, she stopped by his office when she was in the building, but he could always think of something more important that needed his attention. Conversations were brief and superficial, and when she tried to press him on how he was, he would insist he was fine and either change the subject or suddenly have an important appointment to go to. He was usually brusque and dismissive with her, which hurt her even more than his obvious avoidance. He became pale and a little puffy around his usually angular face. Worse, Laura began to hear comments about how much, and how often, he was drinking, and his apparently abundant sex life. He didn’t seem to care enough to go to bars that weren’t frequented by his colleagues at the D.A.’s office and NYPD. 

It was time to make him talk to her. She wasn’t looking forward to it. Although she knew the sweet, kind, generous side of Peter that he kept private, she was also fully aware of his public persona. The tough, argumentative, black and white, borderline cold attorney that feared nothing and pulled no punches. She fully expected that was the Peter she’d be dealing with. Laura was aware of no force on Earth that could make Peter Stone talk about something he didn’t want to, or do something he didn’t want to do. 

She knew he’d be at one of a handful of places. When she struck out at Forlini’s, she headed to Maxwell’s and found him sitting at the bar alone, with a glass of something dark and probably 100-proof in front of him, and an empty glass nearby. _Damn_. She’d hoped to catch him before he got going, but had been at the hospital with a rape victim until late. It was now after 8 p.m. He scowled into his glass, tossing back half the contents at once. When he set the glass down on the bar, his lips were pressed into a grim line. Peter’s reaction to her greeting told Laura immediately the two glasses in front of him were not the full story.

“Sunshine! Come give me a hug!” 

Laura walked to him and hugged him, feeling him lean just a little too heavily on her. “I was hoping to catch you earlier, but I got stuck at work. I want to talk to you.” 

“Ugh, you sound so serious. Let’s not get into a big discussion, all right? Let’s have some fun.” He pulled her back to him and kissed her sloppily on the side of her head.

“I really need to talk to you, Peter.” She hiked herself up on the barstool next to him, but waved the bartender off. Peter wasn’t drunk yet, but he wasn’t sober enough to have a real discussion. It didn’t look like there was much point in staying. 

“Well, I don’t want to talk at all. You know what I do want to do?” He leaned over to kiss her, but she angled away from him. 

“Stop it, Peter.”

“C’mon, just for old times’ sake, huh? Your boyfriend doesn’t have to know.”

Now he was getting handsy. This was absolutely not the Peter she knew. “You know me better than that. Let go of me.”

“You know what? You were more fun when you drank.”

Laura was stunned speechless for a moment by the uncharacteristic offhand cruelty of his remark.

“I never cheated, even then. Which you also know. Knock it off, or I’m leaving.”

“That’s probably a good idea if you don’t want to have a good time,” he pouted, pushing her away, then added spitefully, “You’ll just get in the way of me finding someone who does.” 

“I’m going to need your keys.”

“I’m not gonna drive. Need I remind you, you are not in a position to judge me?”

Peter Stone, intentionally mean? Laura wasn’t sure whether she was more angry or more afraid for him. “No. You don’t need to remind me. I remember quite well. But you are going to need your car tomorrow, and you can’t leave it here overnight. I was offering to drive it to your apartment for you.”

He silently handed her his keys, still at least himself enough to look slightly ashamed. She kissed him on the cheek. “Call me if you need me. Good hunting, I guess.”

On the way out, Laura stopped one of the bartenders she knew slightly as he picked up some glasses from a newly-vacated table.

“Hey, it’s Franco, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Laura.”

“Yeah, I seen you in here before. You’re a cop, right?”

“Yeah. Hey, listen, Franco, I’m a friend of Peter’s…” She jerked a thumb at Peter over her shoulder. “I’m a little worried about him. How often is he here?”

Franco smiled with one side of his mouth. “You his girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Well, then, I’ll tell you. It’s none of my business, but… he’s in here two or three times a week. And he leaves with a different chick every time. Except tonight, he got shut down by the babe he was working, so he’s had a few more than usual.” 

“OK, thanks. I appreciate it.” _Shit._

On the subway from Peter’s apartment to her own after dropping off his SUV, Laura thought about what Peter had said, and what she had learned about his recent behavior. She knew she had to do something, but she also knew Peter. When he dug in his heels… She shook her head, thinking that Peter must have had very similar thoughts about her back in her drinking days. She tried not to think about him sleeping his way across Manhattan. 

When Laura let herself into his apartment, Rafael was laying on his couch, reading something that looked work-related while the news station played in the background. He looked up, smiling, and tossed his papers onto the floor next to him.

Laura stretched out on top of Rafael, giving him a quick kiss and then lying her head down on his chest. 

“Tired? Bad day?”

“No, it was OK. I’m just glad to be here with you.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered in a quiet voice.

“Nothing. Peter just said something shitty to me, is all.”

“How’s he doing?” Rafael asked, his voice neutral although Laura could feel his body tense at Peter’s name. 

“Well, he’s discovered that sex with random strangers kills the pain just as well as booze, but doesn’t give you a hangover. Apparently, he’s been sleeping with a large percentage of the population of the tri-state area.” 

“He’s a grown man, Laura. He can do what he wants. If you don’t like how he’s acting, just cut him loose.” There was a definite edge to Rafael’s voice now.

“He’s not thinking straight. He’s messed up over Pam’s death, and he’s just trying to cope. Yeah, he’s doing a crappy job, but you wouldn’t abandon a friend for that, would you?”

“You did say he was shitty to you.”

“He was, but…”

Rafael shifted his body, moving to get out from under Laura. She lifted herself off of him and sat on the other end of the couch from where he lay. “I’m getting really tired of hearing about Peter Stone,” he muttered, frowning.

“Well, you asked. Let’s just not talk about it.”

He pushed on her leg with his foot, a playful gesture intended to try to avoid an argument or a tense silence. “I’m not trying to be an ass. I just really don’t like him. And I wish you didn’t, either.”

“I know.” She put a hand on his foot, absently slipping her hand under the hem of his jeans to touch bare skin. Neither spoke for a while, Rafael watching Laura as she retreated deep into memory. Her eyes told him that her mind was a thousand miles away. “I don’t think I could ever explain how badly I treated him, Rafael. I owe him. There’s no way to make up for the things I did. I’m just trying to be there for him.”

“That’s… nice, I guess, but…”

It was as though she didn’t even hear him. “I used to pick fights with him so that I could go out and get drunk and blame it on him. I’d yell at him, bait him, try to piss him off so he’d say or do something I could use against him. That was bad enough. But it stopped working. I can remember screaming horrible things at him and throwing things, but he just wouldn’t get mad. It drove me crazy, and the crazier I got, the meaner I got. Peter has the longest fuse of any man I’ve ever met. I couldn’t get to him. I would end up just having to storm out, when he hadn’t given me one single thing to be mad about.”

“This one time, I hadn’t had a drink all day. It was supposed to be my first day not drinking - how many of those did I have? I don’t know how to describe what it’s like to be desperate for a drink, but it’s an unbearable pressure. You’ll do anything. Finally, I just decided, ‘screw it, I’ll drink tonight and try again tomorrow’. And Peter tried to talk me out of it. I got mad, of course, and yelled at him, but this time, he just went and stood in front of the door. He stopped talking; he wasn’t going to fight with me. He just stood there so I couldn’t get out. I started hitting him, slapping him, pushing him. And I was screaming. I said the most horrible, evil, cruel things I could think of. The things I said…”

The tortured look on Laura’s face was enough to make Rafael sit up and put an arm around her. He wasn’t sure she noticed, as lost in the distressing memory as she had become. He watched the play of expressions over her face as she remembered the vile taunts she’d hurled at Peter.

“He was like one of those statues on Easter Island, just no expression. And he’s built like them, too; he just stood there and let me whale on him. I wasn’t making a dent. But then… I somehow landed a solid punch to his jaw. I think he might have seen stars for a second.” 

“What did he do?” Rafael kept his voice subdued, empty of any criticism. He hoped he sounded compassionate.

“He took my hands and he said, ‘That’s enough.’ That was it. After all that abuse, and all that hitting, two words, in a normal tone of voice. ‘That’s enough.’ He just held my hands until I calmed down enough to stop hitting him. Not tight; he wasn’t hurting me. His grip was just so strong I couldn’t pull away.”

“So what happened?”

Laura sighed and wiped a tear. In a small voice, she asked “Did you ever notice that scar he has on his right temple?”

“Not that I recall.”

“I was never going to get him away from the door. So I pretended to calm down. And when he let me go, I picked up a lamp and I swung it at him.” She paused. “Base first. He went down, and I could see he was bleeding. But I…” Her voice cracked and she couldn’t go on.

“Tell me. It’s OK. You what?”

“I stepped over him and I left. I went out and got blasted, and I didn’t come home for three days.”

Rafael said nothing. What could he say? He began to understand why she said that there was no going back for her and Stone. 

“He needed seventeen stitches. He told the people at the hospital he fell and hit his head on a table. I did that to him. And I was dead sober when I did it.”

The only thing Rafael could think to do was put his other arm around her. He couldn’t help but understand why she felt guilty, and his heart hurt for the shame and self-hatred that still clung to her even now. But he was reaching the end of his ability to tolerate Stone’s presence in Laura’s life. And his own. He really wished it had been him who clocked Stone with a lamp.

Three days later, the SVU squad was running down a case for Rafael in which Laura played a significant part. Yet she played almost no part in the discussion. She was distracted, seemed fatigued, and wasn’t listening. In fact, at one point, Rafael had to get her attention to get her to answer a question he’d asked her directly.

“Detective? Would you care to join us?” He asked irritably. He assumed that he knew exactly who she was thinking about at that moment. He was deeply offended and, worse by far, he was stung by the idea that he was always acutely aware of her in these meetings, whereas she hadn’t even heard him when he spoke directly to her. In front of the entire squad.

When the meeting broke up, he tried to be unobtrusive about leaving without speaking to her. As he gathered his tablet, pens, and other items into his briefcase, he realized he needn’t have bothered. Laura stood up, zombie-like, and turned away from him toward her desk. He saw Rollins lean toward her and put an arm around her as they stepped away.

“Peter?” Rollins asked, discreetly but not quietly enough for Rafael to miss the name his ears were particularly attuned to.

“What else?” Laura answered sadly.

He shoved the last of his papers into his briefcase, crushing them, and left the squad room as fast as he could without causing a scene. 

It was after midnight before Laura got home from working with Fin to find (and, in some cases, chase) the witnesses from whom Rafael had asked for statements. The Grand Jury was meeting the next day, so there had been no time to waste. She was bone tired, heartsick and worried about Peter, and particularly upset that Rafael had rushed out of the squad room without a backward glance and hadn’t answered any of her texts or calls. 

She knew he hated her friendship with Peter, and that he particularly resented the time she had devoted to him since his sister had been killed. She hated doing anything that made Rafael unhappy, and especially hated acting in ways that reminded him of his _puta malvada_[1] of an ex-wife. Laura felt trapped. She was completely in love with Rafael. She would never willingly hurt him. And she loved Peter. She would never abandon him. 

She quickly changed into some leggings and a hoodie, then ran up the stairs to Rafael’s apartment. 

None of his lights were on. She found him in bed, apparently asleep, turned away from what had become her side of the bed. She tossed her clothes on the nearest chair and snuggled up behind him, grateful at least that she could be physically close to him.

Two hours later, her phone pealed shrilly from the bedside table. Laura was instantly awake, and she could feel Rafael stir beside her. Rolling her eyes at the idea of having to go back to work after so little sleep, she swiped up on her screen without looking at it.

“Yeah.”

“Hello, is this Sunshine?”

Laura blinked and frowned sleepily. “Excuse me?”

“I’m calling for someone. This number is in his phone as his emergency contact. Is there somebody there named Sunshine?”

“Peter Stone? What’s happened to him?”

“Yeah, Peter Stone. He’s not hurt or anything, but he’s at my bar and he’s plastered. I need someone to take him outta here.”

“Why don’t you just put him in a cab?

“I usually do, but this time… He’s pretty out of it.” 

“All right. Where is he?”

“Forlini’s.”

“Oh, shit. Jack?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“Laura Parker.”

“Hey, Detective. Who’s Sunshine?”

“Long story. Jack, how much of a mess is he? He’s a D.A.”

“I know. That’s partly why I called you. I like him. I don’t want him to make a fool of himself.”

“Thanks. Just keep him upright until I get there. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Will do, Sunshine.”

“Don’t start. It’s been a day. And thanks, Jack.”

Laura sat up on the side of the bed and whisper-screamed a number of colorful phrases in English. Spanish wasn’t going to do it this time.

“No.”

Laura turned toward Rafael. “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“I said no. You are not going to leave my bed and go to that drunken asshole.”

“Someone has to.”

“That’s what beat cops are for. Tell them to call 911.”

“I’m not going to do that to him.”

“No, you’d rather do this to me.”

“Rafael, please. I’m not doing anything to you. I’m trying to help a friend in trouble.”

He turned toward her then, his eyes glittering with anger. Even in the dark room she could see he was sneering. “Bullshit.”

Laura took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Look, I get how this looks, and how it must feel. I do. And I never want to give you one second of pain. But there is nothing going on with me and Peter, and I do not have a choice here. I’ve explained that.”

“You have a choice.”

“Rafael, there are trust issues, and then there is a trusting _me_ issue. You can trust me, and you know that.” 

“Don’t pull that crap with me. This isn’t about me. This is about you and your so-called _ex_-boyfriend. If you walk out that door, you won’t be walking in again.”

Dumbfounded, reeling from the blow of Rafael’s words, Laura could only stare. She waited, trying to assemble the myriad thoughts careening around her brain, hoping he would say something more. Something to undo the ultimatum he’d just delivered. He remained silent, the hostility radiating off him in waves.

Finally, Laura found the strength to whisper, “Rafael, I love you. And I will not abandon Peter when he’s in trouble. Both of those things are true. Please don’t ask me to choose between you. Please.”

Rafael lay motionless, unwilling to move or speak. He wasn’t sure whether he was even able. He glared at Laura as she got up from the bed and put on her clothes. 

“I love you,” she said again, and left his apartment. 

Jack at Forlini’s helped Laura get Peter into the waiting cab. As they were pouring him into the back seat, she asked Jack how often Peter was there, and got the same answer she’d received at Maxwell’s. Which meant Peter was out several nights a week, drinking and screwing. Jack told Laura that Peter had struck out tonight, which was an unusual occurrence. That was the reason he’d drank so much more than usual.

Laura was as kind as she had the patience to be as she once again put Peter to bed and prepared him for the hangover to come. As she paid the cabbie, including the rides to and from Forlini’s, the wait time, and the fifty extra dollars for helping her get Peter up to his apartment, she bitterly cursed the situation. If Peter’s bullshit had destroyed her relationship with Rafael…

She didn’t regret the irate note she’d left on Peter’s bathroom mirror: Call me when you finish puking. If I haven’t heard from you by 2 p.m., I’m coming to find you. Don’t test me on this.

“No, I am not going to meet you at a bar,” Laura griped when Peter called her late the next morning. She looked helplessly at Fin, who was driving them to a witness interview in TriBeCa. He seemed to be enjoying her misery. _Bastard. Wait’ll the next time he has a problem._

“Fine,” Peter snapped. “We can meet at my office.”

“Are your walls soundproof? There’s gonna be yelling.”

“Laura, I really don’t need a lecture.”

“You _absolutely_ fucking need a lecture. And you’re gonna get one. Question is, do you want to get it in public, or in private? Because it makes no difference to me.”

He sighed wearily. “I legitimately can’t do it tonight. I’m prepping a witness for a hearing tomorrow. I can meet you at my place tomorrow night at… I don’t know. Seven.”

“Seven tomorrow at your place. You better be there, or I swear…”

“Yeah, I get the idea.”

Neither Peter nor Laura bothered to say goodbye before they hung up. 

Laura arrived home just before six that evening, which normally would have prompted excited and perhaps suggestive texts to Rafael, asking him if he could come home early. Tonight, however, she was at a loss. Was she even allowed to text him at this point? Would he flame her with furious texts telling her to fuck off? How the hell did they get here?

She was saved from having to make a decision by a knock at her door. Looking out the peephole, she saw a tired-looking, almost disheveled Rafael, if such a thing was possible. _Guess the fact that he didn’t use his key tells me where his head’s at._

As he walked past her into her apartment, he was so distant, so closed and unreachable, that she knew something was very wrong. It terrified her. It looked like they were finally going to address what was going on between them. She definitely wanted it to stop, but she had never seen Rafael like this. 

“Let’s sit,” Rafael said, indicating a club chair next to her couch. 

When they were sitting, she on the chair and he on the end of her couch nearest it, he leaned toward her and took both her hands in his.

“Laura, I want you to know how much I’ve enjoyed these past few months.”

Her gut clenched. He couldn’t possibly be going through with his ultimatum from the night before. This sounded an awful lot like goodbye. But it couldn’t be that. Of course it couldn’t be that. Could it?

“You’re scaring me. Can we get to the ‘but’?”

He looked down at his shoes and sighed. After a moment, he looked back up at her. “But… I am not going down this road again. I hope we can stay friends. I mean, we work together so we’re going to have to maintain some kind of friendship, but… just… not this.”

The words he rehearsed were mangled and twisted up somewhere in what he’d said, but it had come out a complete mess. Still, he’d managed to choke the words out, so he stopped talking.

Laura sat gaping at him, too afraid to react in case it would make this real. He knew that she loved him. He knew that she and Peter were only friends. He _knew_ that. 

Rafael simply sat, holding her hands and looking up into her face with an unreadable mask covering whatever he was actually feeling. She knew him well enough to know that he would wait her out, no matter how long it took her to respond. It was an old interrogation technique. Allow an uncomfortable silence, and the subject will fill it.

“I have never lied to you. I am seeing only you. I want only you.”

“Well. Be that as it may, I want to be on my own again.”

“No, you don’t,” she said, an unbelieving edge to her voice. He wasn’t making any sense. He’d told her in an unguarded moment that he hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been until she had come into his life. 

She wasn’t making this any easier on him. Of all the scenarios he’d imagined – tears, angry words, cold indifference – he really should have known that what he’d get was straightforward denial that she was seeing Stone, and questioning of the bullshit he was spouting about wanting to be on his own again. She trusted him. She was sure of him. Of them. So she was genuinely wounded and confused to hear him essentially call her a liar and a cheat, and follow it up with something she knew wasn’t true. He passionately envied her that certainty. 

“Actually, I do.” 

She leaned closer to him, searching his face for something. She spoke slowly, carefully. “If you’re not serious, if you’re not actually telling me it’s over between us, now is the time to say it.”

“I’m completely serious.”

She took her hands from his and sat back in the chair, distancing herself from him. She blinked, hurt bewilderment tinged with the beginnings of anger clouding her expression. “Tell me why.”

“I told you, I won’t go down this road again.”

“I am not that woman you were married to. I am not seeing Peter Stone. Or anyone else but you. Period.”

“Whatever. I just want my old life back.”

“And that’s a lie. Don’t lie to me. I deserve better than that.”

“And _I _deserve better than…” He started to hiss something brutal, stopping himself just in time. “I enjoyed the time we spent together. It’s time for me to go.”

Laura sat, looking at his hands as they rested on his thighs, unable to believe this moment was happening. 

“Please don’t do this.” Her voice had lost all of its anger. It was now a naked, fervent plea, a last desperate attempt to stop him from shattering her heart in a million pieces.

Rafael said nothing. The agony of this moment was necessary to spare himself the infinitely worse torment to come - the moment when she told him she was leaving him for Stone. He was committing emotional suicide, rather than let her destroy him. This time, he would be in control. Even at this price.

Finally, she slowly stood up. Glassy eyed and tentative, like a sleepwalker, she went to the counter between the living room and kitchen and picked up her keys.

She found the key to his apartment and began to work it off the ring. Her eyes were filled with tears. She struggled with it, panicky and blind with grief, unable to get the key to come off and finally resorting to trying to pull it off by pure brute force. 

Rafael stepped over to her and gently tried to take the keys from her, but she shoved him roughly away with her elbow. A small sob broke from her and she swiped the tears from her eyes, then started again.

When she had worked the key free, she held it out to him, fat tears spilling over and running slowly down her cheeks.

“I’ve been completely faithful to you. And I don’t believe a word of just wanting your old life back,” she said, in a small, breaking voice. “But I guess you don’t owe me anything.” 

The pain in her tear-filled eyes tore at Rafael as he pulled his own keys from his pocket and took her key from his key ring. Everything in him wanted to take her in his arms and beg her to forget what he’d said, to explain the fundamental flaw in his makeup that compelled him to do something this self-destructive and completely counter to what he really wanted. 

Instead, he handed her the key, and accepted his own back from her. She didn’t look at him. She was struggling desperately not to cry, and looked more hurt and confused than he had ever seen her. But what broke his heart was the steel determination underneath the roiling emotions she was working so hard to control. If he wanted out, she was going to let him go with as little drama as she could manage, preserving whatever might remain of her pride. It was all he could do not to fall to his knees.

“Take care of yourself, _cariño_[2],” he whispered.__

_ _“You, too,” she replied, voice raw with pain. _ _

_ _He walked slowly to the door and let himself out, turning back just in time to see the door close. For a while, he just stood there, unable to make his legs move to take him away from her door for the last time. Maybe she would open the door and beg him to stay, and that would be enough to finally allow him to let himself fully trust and commit to her. Maybe she could find a way to un-break him, to make him strong enough to… Fuck it. He wasn’t strong enough, and that was that. She wasn’t coming out. He had told her it was over, and she had taken him at his word. She had accepted his decision. She didn’t like it, and she might be sad and angry for a while, but she would be fine, with Stone or with someone else. It was his life that was over. It was him who would have to live around a permanent ragged wound right in the middle of his world. _ _

_ _She stood for a second, trying to stop time, trying to prevent the crushing weight of loss from crashing down on her, trying to find a way to escape the searing pain of what Rafael had just done. It hit her anyway. In some dry corner of her brain, she was reminded of a time back in Chicago when she had been fifty yards from a meth lab in a storage shed when it had exploded. She thought how similar the blast wave had felt to this moment; how she had been blown off her feet and could only lie cowering, hands over her head, while lethal chunks of wood and glass had hurtled through the air all around her._ _

_ _She fell back against the wall, hands clutching her mouth as though to keep in the scream of agony that threatened to tear loose from her throat. As she slid down the wall to the floor, she buried her face in her knees, shaking her head. She could not allow herself to give in to the wild grief that she desperately tried to hold off. It felt as though her very sanity was at stake; there was no way she could survive the full brunt of losing Rafael. No way. It would overwhelm her, sweep her away, leaving a blasted husk where a living woman had been._ _

_ _This was nothing like losing Peter. Nothing. By the time Peter had left her, she had been so filled with self-hatred that her overwhelming feeling was relief that he would finally be safe from her. She understood Peter leaving her. She congratulated him on his escape. She accepted the pain of losing him as her penance for her alcoholic rampage through their life. But this? She was being accused of a crime she didn’t commit, a crime he had to know at some level she wouldn’t commit. And Rafael wanted to be with her. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name. They’d been happy. In fact, she realized with a shock, she’d been happier with Rafael than she had ever been in her life. So why?_ _

_ _She made an instant decision to throw sobriety out the window. She would get stinking, reeling drunk. Just as quickly, she realized why that wouldn’t work, and it had nothing to do with caring about herself. It was that she could not possibly sit still, letting this anguish tear and pound at her. There was only one thing she could think to do. She stumbled blindly into her bedroom and threw on something - she didn’t know or care what - that she could run in. She strapped reflective bracelets on her wrists and ankles and shrugged into the vest with reflective strips and blinking red LEDs she wore to run at night. It was still light now, but she intended to run until she collapsed from exhaustion. All night, if she could._ _

_ _She thought about what people would say about a young woman running through Manhattan at night and gave an ugly, bitter laugh. She hoped someone tried to attack her. She needed desperately to beat the shit out of someone right now. And honestly, if she was the one who got beat, if somebody raped or killed her, she really didn’t give a fuck. If she got hurt while she was pounding out her grief on the streets, that was just the price of doing business. She absolutely could not sit still in this apartment, feeling this pain._ _

_ _Rafael finally found his way back to his apartment and got blind drunk. He dug out a pack of old, stale cigarettes that he remembered seeing when he was looking for something else. He hadn’t smoked in years. He didn’t even remember where these cigarettes had come from. He closed all the drapes, feeling assaulted by the light from outside, then smoked and concentrated on the glowing tips while he sat in the dark, drinking and crying. He drank to the bottom of a bottle that had been more than half full. He could only imagine how sick he would be the next day, but he couldn’t dredge up the energy to give a shit. He needed to do whatever it took to dull the burning torment in his heart._ _

_ _This was what he’d been afraid of. This was why he had fought so hard not to fall in love. This was the chasm he knew was waiting somewhere in the deceptively beautiful landscape he’d been stupid enough to go running through with Laura. He knew he would fall this hard for her, knew it almost from the beginning. And he knew this is where it would lead. Because he knew that he wasn’t capable of letting go of his fear, even for her. She’d never hurt him. Not once. He strongly suspected she’d never broken his trust, either. She swore that she wouldn’t, and he believed her. The problem wasn’t her. It wasn’t even Peter Stone. Rafael simply could not believe that she could love him. He absolutely knew in his soul that, one day soon, she would wake up entirely disgusted with him and dismiss him contemptuously from her life. Because that’s what happened when Rafael Barba let himself fall in love. _ _

_ _[1] Cheating whore_ _

_ _[2] Sweetheart_ _


	40. In The Crater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba and OC Laura Parker on their first work day post-breakup. Laura tries to talk to Peter Stone about his ineffective and dangerous method of dealing with his sister's murder.

Laura didn’t know how far she ran. She didn’t care. She ran and cried until she had leg cramps, and still she kept running. She had imaginary conversations with Rafael – out loud - puffing out the words with her breath and causing more than a few people on the street to give her some extra room. She’d start to feel like she was cried out, and then think of something funny he’d said, or a romantic moment, or just the way he looked when he was fully relaxed and out of prosecutor mode, and suddenly be sobbing again as she pounded out block after block. She could feel blisters forming on her feet. She ignored them, ran further, and cried some more. 

She turned the situation over and over in her mind – how could Rafael believe that she would betray his trust, when she had done everything to show him that she was worthy of that trust? That she respected his need to protect his heart? That she loved him? No amount of running was going to untangle that knot. She had never once pushed him to tell her whether he loved her back, thinking that was something he would have to come to on his own. But what if he didn’t say it because he didn’t feel it? Maybe Peter was only an excuse? 

The thoughts bombarding her from every side could have kept her running all night, but what finally made her turn for home was that the blisters simply became too raw to continue. She dragged herself up the stairs, threw herself on the bed still in her sweat-soaked running clothes, and cried herself to sleep. 

She woke up pissed. She hadn’t had nearly enough sleep, she looked like hell, and somewhere in the night she had fully grasped the terrible injustice of what Rafael had asked of her. Besides which, she had blisters on both feet, and they hurt.

Rafael was afraid he wasn’t going to die. He was afraid the horrible, painfully loud shrieking in his ears was only his alarm clock, and that he would survive to have to face the work day. He turned over to silence the alarm, immediately causing his head to double in size and begin throbbing, and his stomach to churn in a way that had him up and running before he could even hit the snooze button. After he threw up until his stomach was sore, he stood to splash water on his face. He saw himself in the mirror and swore violently. He wasn’t sure whether he looked worse than he smelled, or vice versa. Every pore was oozing scotch and nicotine. With the thought of nicotine, he threw himself back to his knees and vomited again. 

“If there’s any running and punching to be done today, I’m there for it,” Laura told Olivia, handing her a stack of reports.

“Let’s keep the punching to a minimum,” Benson responded, too wrapped in her own work to pay much attention to Parker. 

“Even if they deserve it?”

“They all deserve it. We don’t get to punch them.”

“I don’t know, I heard a story about you…”

“No punching.”

Olivia went back to her office.

“She didn’t say anything about kicking,” Laura muttered, almost to herself. 

Fin and Carisi shared a look. Parker looked like death would be a relief, and they both knew crying-all-night eyes when they saw them. They just hoped to avoid splash damage from whatever was wrong with her, because they thought they could guess what the problem was. They’d know when Barba came in.

Amanda brought Laura a cup of coffee. “Hey, I could use your thoughts on this Edison thing,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Could you come take a look at something with me?”

Fin and Carisi glanced at one another again. _Good. Let Rollins handle the feelings stuff._

“You want to talk about it?” Amanda asked quietly as they reached the monitors in the meeting area.

“No, but if that offer to shoot Barba and make it look like an accident still stands, I’m interested,” Laura muttered back, shooting a look at the rest of the squad room to make sure they couldn’t be overheard.

“I was afraid that was what it was.”

“I really, really do not want to talk about it.”

“OK. I’m always here. You know that.”

“I do. Thanks. I’m just not ready yet. I may never be ready. Just… if he comes over here, run interference if you can. That would help. I cannot deal with him today.”

“You got it. I’ll do whatever I can.” Amanda made a move to hug Laura.

“Please don’t hug me. I’ll cry, and I’ll never be able to stop.”

“Been there. Want me to punch your lights out?”

“See, that right there is why I love you.” Laura actually smiled. On her wrecked face, the smile was more like a grimace. But it was a start. 

“Is it that serious?”

“Amanda, it’s over.”

“No…”

“Oh, yeah. But like I said, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Life seems to like to kick people when they’re down. Rafael absolutely could not avoid meeting with the SVU team that afternoon. He briefly considered running away and starting a new life as a cab driver in Mexico, or perhaps faking his own death. Both seemed beyond his current, very hung over, capacity. Anyway, he’d done what he had to do. Now he just had to face the consequences. He didn’t think it was possible to feel worse than he already did, so today might actually be the best day to get this first post-breakup meeting with Laura over with while he was already fucking miserable.

The entire squad room felt the expectant hush when Barba walked in. If they’d thought Parker looked bad – and they did – Barba looked like he should be hooked up to some kind of life support. He was pale, a little green, moving slowly as opposed to his usual caffeine-fueled pace, with red-rimmed eyes and had a general dullness about him.

Carisi leaned over to Fin. “Guess that answers that question.”

“I don’t usually pray to get called out to a crime scene, but…”

The meeting was tense and entirely devoid of any comments other than those directly on point with the topic. Everyone wanted to get away from the table. Olivia, having been working in her office all morning, hadn’t been aware that anything was amiss. But one look at Barba and Parker, and she knew immediately why the atmosphere was so thick, and why people who work together should never, ever date. She should have objected. She should have given Parker an ultimatum: keep your hands off our D.A., or get transferred to a unit where you don’t work with him. Hindsight. She leaned her head on her hand and took a long drink of lukewarm coffee. 

To their credit, Rafael and Laura did try to behave normally. They contributed to the meeting, and even interacted. Maybe, in time, things would go back to normal. But not today, and clearly not for a while.

When the meeting was over, Laura went to the break room to get a soda. Rafael purposely followed her. Seeing that, the other members of the squad pointedly avoided going anywhere near there.

Laura turned from the vending machine, soda can in hand, to find Rafael standing a few feet away, looking… what? Anxious? Determined? A little of both? In fact, he had simply decided to get all the firsts out of the way at once. Since she hadn’t pulled her gun on him at the meeting, and had even spoken close to normally to him, he might as well try to have their first post-breakup one-on-one conversation at work.

“Are you limping?”

“Blisters from running,” she said, trying to go around him and escape.

He stepped in front of her. “Are you… OK?”

“You don’t get to ask me that anymore.”

“I’m trying to establish a work relationship.”

“A work relationship could possibly involve ‘Why are you limping’, but it doesn’t extend to ‘Are you ok?’. Can I get by, please?” 

“I’m just trying to be a friend.”

“We are not friends. That’s kind of how ‘fuck you’ works.”

“I didn’t say fuck you.”

“Really? Because I heard it. Loud and clear. So if you’ll excuse me…” 

“Laura-”

“Halfway doesn’t work for you. You’re either in or out, remember? You chose out. So _be_ out.” 

The barely-controlled fury as she hissed that at him left no doubt how she was feeling. Good. Having her hate him would be easier than having her try to reconcile. He wasn’t up to trying to resist her. He’d used up all his strength the night before. 

Amanda poked her head in the door just then. “Parker, Liv needs you.”

Laura stepped around Rafael and followed Amanda back into the squad room, leaving Rafael to breathe a sigh of relief and leave the station.

“Does Liv really need me?” Laura asked Amanda as they crossed the squad room.

“’Course not. Sorry, I didn’t see him go after you. I woulda tackled him or something.”

“It’s all right. We’re gonna have to figure out how to work together at some point.”

********

Mr. Barba was impossible that day. One minute he was irritable and refused to be satisfied with anything. The next he was telling Carmen how much he relied on and appreciated her. Several times, she timed him as he just stood, staring out the window, and decided that half an hour at a time was enough. She would interrupt him on a pretext and get him back to work, only to have him begin barking orders and starting the cycle all over again. The only other time she’d seen him like this was just before he’d begun his relationship with Detective Parker. The woman in her considered trying to help – she and Laura had enough of a friendship that a call might not go amiss, and Carmen would take a bullet for Mr. Barba – but this looked too serious for well-meaning interference. This looked like an explosion potentially loaded with shrapnel, and she was smart enough to stay out of the blast zone.

She would just have to handle Mr. Barba, without him recognizing that he was being handled. Like she always did. 

Carmen finally decided to put through a couple of calls she normally wouldn’t have, just to give him a chance to yell at someone, maybe release some of that pent-up… whatever it was. Rage? Frustration? Sadness? All of the above? When Trevor Langan called, the smile on Carmen’s face as she transferred the call unannounced could have been described as evil, but it was actually just the satisfied look of someone executing a well-conceived strategy. 

********

Peter didn’t know what the hell Laura thought she could accomplish here. Pam was dead. He was responsible. End of story. Laura could yell all she wanted, but it wouldn’t change a thing. And he wasn’t proud of the way he’d been treating her. He’d prefer not to have to look her in the eye right now. But she just wouldn’t fucking let it rest. He was doing the best he could. He didn’t need her telling him he was failing utterly. He already knew that.

The knock at Peter’s door, almost exactly at 7:00, ended his self-reflection. He let Laura in, neither of them saying a word. Silently, they just stood looking at one another, Peter noticing immediately that Laura looked worse than he did. _Shit, she’s about to cry_, he thought. _Cheap move_. But then he looked more closely. Was that really all about him? Because she looked like she hadn’t slept in a week, and was ill on top of it. 

Laura finally broke down and gave Peter a quick, hard hug. 

“It’s good to see you,” she said, adding quietly, “You dumbshit.”

Peter had to laugh at that. “I’m glad to see you’ve decided to forgive me.”

“I’m stupid like that.”

As they settled on his couch and began to make casual conversation, she mentioned, as though in passing, that she and Barba had broken up. He didn’t buy that casual act for a second. _So that’s why she looks so rough._ She and Barba had been together for a while, and she’d really cared for him. She must be hurting. Peter knew she’d get around to talking honestly about it if she wanted to, but he hoped she wouldn’t. He had no idea what the rules were for talking to your ex-girlfriend about her new ex-boyfriend. Wasn’t that what other women were for? Anyway, he was going to have trouble pretending he wasn’t happy she was single again. It had been torture seeing her get serious about another man. 

Soon enough, she came to the point. 

“So. What are we going to do with you?”

He leaned back, stretching his long legs out and crossing his arms. “I know I need to cut back on the drinking. I’m sorry you got called to bring me home. That’s embarrassing.”

“I’m always gonna be there for you. Because I love you. So why won’t you _let_ me be there for you? I can listen, or I can help you find someone who can help you work through this-”

Peter sighed irritably. “Just because I had a few too many on a couple of occasions-”

“Don’t. Just don’t. I know how often you drink, I know how much you drink, and I know about all the women. So just don’t with me. All right?”

Peter looked over at her, shocked. “What, have you been investigating me?”

“Didn’t have to. Everybody in your office and mine are talking about it. And Jack at Forlini’s happened to mention it while we were shoving your drunk ass in a cab. OK, I admit I asked someone at Maxwell’s, but it wasn’t like it was a secret.”

“Wow. I was nicer to you when you were drinking.”

“You’re nicer than I am, period. Don’t change the subject.”

“So, it’s not the drinking you care about. It’s that I’m seeing other women.”

“No. You were ‘seeing’ Alyson. You’re not seeing these women, Peter. You’re fucking them without even looking at them.”

“My sex life is none of your business anymore.”

“Agreed. But it is my business _why_ you’re sleeping with half of New York. I care about _you_. That isn’t who you are, and it’s dangerous as hell. And, if you’ll forgive me for slut-shaming you, it’s kinda skeevy.” 

“Skeevy.”

“It’s a word. Google it.”

He reached over and took her hand. “I gotta deal with this in my own way.”

“You’re not dealing with it at all!” 

“Just…” Peter struggled for words that would end this conversation and get her out of his business. “Just give me time. OK? Can you just… back off and give me some space to do what I gotta do?”

Laura sighed, rolling her head back in an overdramatized show of frustration. “Killin’ me here, Sparky. Seriously.”

“Oh, great. So now I’m Sparky?”

“You’re acting like a Sparky.”

“Shit.”

“So how am I supposed to be OK with, ‘yeah, I got this’? You don’t got this.”

“If I don’t right now, I will. Promise. I will. And if and when I need help, you’ll be the first person I call.”

Laura shook her head. “Damn it, Peter. You’re the most stubborn, inflexible, overconfident… What am I supposed to do if something happens to you?”

“It won’t.”

“It better not. I need you.”

He squeezed her hand. “Can the lecture be over now?”

“Might as well. It didn’t do any good.” She moved over and leaned on him, scooting in between his arm and his body. He moved to accommodate her, putting his arm around her.

“Jackass,” she said, supposedly under her breath but purposely loud enough for him to hear. He squeezed her. 

“But I’m your jackass.” He chuckled.

They sat together in comfortable silence, enjoying being together without tension for a change. He could feel that there was something she wanted to talk about, and he could only hope it wasn’t Barba. 

She looked up at him. “So all these women… are you using protection?”

She was in the crook of his arm, looking up at him, which put her face very close to his. The tone of her voice was odd. 

“There’s not _that_ many women, Sunshine. And I don’t always sleep with them.”

“Answer the question.”

“Of course. I’m an idiot, but I’m not that big an idiot.”

“Good,” she said, throwing her leg over his and climbing into his lap, straddling him. He was startled when she leaned in and kissed him, but instinctively wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. _ What is this? She has a… oh, yeah. _

The kisses heated up after a moment or two. He spread his hands and ran them up her back, licking at her upper lip until she opened her mouth to him and scooted her hips forward, pulling herself into a position where she could rub against him. 

Until he felt a tear on his cheek. He pulled back, taking her upper arms and pushing her gently away. She tried to resist, but as soon as he saw her face, it was over for him.

“OK. What’s going on?”

“I want you.”

“Yeah, I got that, but the crying’s a little bit of a buzzkill.”

She collapsed onto his chest and just let her tears flow.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I’m sorry. I just… wanted you to hold me. Because you like me and… he…” 

“OK, OK,” he soothed, pulling her to him and stroking her hair. “All you had to do was ask.”

“I’m not trying to tease you. I really do want to be with you…”

“Yeah, so do I, but that’s not a great idea.”

“It seemed like one a minute ago.”

“I know. And Sunshine, I’d love to take you to bed for the next week straight. But that’s not what you want. And don’t think I’m particularly happy about it, either.”

“Then do it.”

“I can’t. Not just because of … what’s going on with you and Barba, but because of what’s going on with me.”

“So you’ll sleep with anyone _but_ me?”

“That’s what I mean. I’m not going to use you like that. Strangers are one thing. You, Sunshine, are another.” 

Laura looked at him with tears brimming in her eyes. She flopped back onto the couch next to him, slumped over with her arms and legs hanging limply.

“How pathetic am I? I can’t even get revenge sex right.”

Peter laughed. 

“It’s not funny! I mean, look at you! Any straight woman with a pulse would be devouring you right now. You’re… sex on a stick!”

“Thanks, but it wouldn’t make any difference. You’re in love with someone else.”

They just sat side by side for a while, thinking their own thoughts.

“So, no revenge sex then.”

“Nope.”

“How about just dirty, on-the-down-low, because we can sex?”

“No.”

“Shit. Then do you have any ice cream?”


	41. Restless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During Closing Arguments of a trial, the defendant goes after Rafael Barba. Fin Tutuola and OC Laura Parker are there to protect him. Rafael and Laura are alone together for the first time since their breakup.

Rafael Barba was making his closing arguments, meaning this trial was finally going to end. Laura was looking forward to the opportunity to go to the gym and work off all this nervous energy. As nice as it was to have the opportunity to sit for hours doing nothing but watching Rafael, the trouble was the “sit for hours” part. Laura wasn’t much good at sitting still. She found it especially difficult in this situation, because she couldn’t shake the feeling that any moment the defendant was going to go off. He was visibly wired, taut, like a panther crouched and ready to spring. 

Laura wasn’t the only one who felt it. She could see the court bailiffs eyeing him, too. She would let them take care of the defendant, Cameron. But Rafael sat less than ten feet from him. And if Cameron decided to go after Rafael, Laura was going to get to him first. Rafael didn’t have to love her. He could be as brusque and businesslike as he wanted. She’d been dealing with that all summer, and she rarely still cried about it. But that didn’t mean she didn’t love him. And it certainly didn’t mean she would let anyone hurt him.

She missed Rafael a hundred times a day. At first, the pain had been so acute she sometimes had to lock herself in the bathroom at the station and just sit on the floor, knees pulled up tightly to her chest, rocking and crying. That hadn’t happened in a while. The months had done at least that much. These days, missing him usually took the form of hearing him say something particularly clever, or seeing him do something that reminded her of when they’d been a couple. She usually didn’t cry about it anymore. Usually, but not never.

Laura wasn’t concerned that Cameron would be acquitted – he wouldn’t. But until he was safely shackled and out of this courtroom, he was a threat to Rafael, and she was anxious. Not a good state of mind for someone as restless as Laura to be in as she sat through a week-long trial. She was glad the day was nearly over; it had been a long afternoon.

Rafael, on the other hand, was in his element. He had no fear of Cameron. Cameron was a blowhard and a bully, nothing more. Rafael was in complete control of this trial, making sure that a rapist went to prison and wiping the floor with smarmy Trevor Langan in the process. It was a good day. Best of all, he could feel Laura in the first row, directly behind him. He wasn’t above showing off in front of her, even now.

Rafael and Laura had somehow cobbled together a working relationship, cool and impersonal and overly polite as it was. He thought there might even someday come a night when he didn’t purposely work too late to avoid being home at times he used to spend with Laura, only to lie awake thinking about her anyway. For some reason, she and Stone still hadn’t gotten together. He knew that because he had seen Stone a couple of times at Forlini’s, treating the bar like a corner bodega where he could just stop and pick up a girl on his way home. 

He also knew it because, prior to a meeting one morning, he’d been pouring himself a cup of coffee and overheard a conversation between Fin and Laura.

“So how was your date with Rollins’s friend?”

Since Fin and Laura were the only two at the table, Fin had to be speaking to her, although Rafael’s back was to them. 

“I only did that as a favor to her. And he was a troglodyte.”

Rafael couldn’t help but grin with both amusement and relief. Which was stronger, he didn’t examine too closely.

“Troglo-what now?”

Rafael turned around then, not being able to convincingly spend any more time simply pouring a cup of coffee. “A caveman,” he told Fin as he sat down at the table.

“Why’nt you just say caveman, then? Damn nerds all up in here…” Fin complained. 

Spontaneously, accidentally, Rafael and Laura had begun to share a smile before both catching themselves and awkwardly fumbling to look elsewhere as though it hadn’t happened. That moment had been both the highlight and the most painful part of Rafael’s day. He couldn’t have known that the same was true for Laura.

At this moment, Rafael was walking around as he gave his closing argument, first standing in front of the jury to address them directly, then standing in front of the defense table and gesturing toward Cameron as he laid out the evidence, link by link. 

Laura wished he wouldn’t do that. As long as he was closer to Cameron than he was to her, Cameron could get to him before she could. With each additional fact and piece of evidence, she could see Cameron’s jaw clench harder and his face get redder. His hands had been in fists throughout the trial, but now he was actually knocking them softly against the table in front of him. A couple times, he shifted his weight as if to stand. Each time, Laura shifted hers in the same way, ready to jump up.

Cameron’s obvious difficulties controlling his seething anger had caused the court bailiffs to move a little closer to him. One, a wiry Asian woman who looked like she could move quickly, stood within 5 feet of the defense table ready to act. The other, a tall, beefy white guy with a very red face, had inched to within three feet of the defendant. Although he stood slightly behind Cameron so that he couldn’t be seen directly, Laura could sense the defendant’s awareness of the bailiff just behind him.

Rafael continued his closing, bringing up a photograph of the victim on the large screen across the room from the jury. Laura noticed Cameron’s face turn a frighteningly dark shade of red that seemed almost purple. 

This wasn’t good. She elbowed Fin, sitting at her left, as she moved forward to the edge of her seat. She pulled the edge of her blazer back from in front of her holster and unsnapped the strap that secured her weapon. Fin did the same. 

Rafael moved back behind the prosecution table. Continuing his closing, he turned toward the defendant, who glared at him with abject hate. Laura leaned forward and placed an arm on the rail between the gallery and the counsel tables. That was when Rafael made a particularly strong point, put so cleverly that there were scattered laughs in the courtroom. That did it.

At that moment, the defendant’s pent-up rage exploded in a violent roar as he used one hand to push the table at which he had been sitting halfway to the judge’s bench. With the other, he pulled the red-faced, beefy bailiff toward him by the belt and grabbed his sidearm before the bailiff had a chance to react. 

In one fluid movement, Laura stood and vaulted the rail with one arm, throwing herself at Rafael and allowing her momentum to knock him to the floor, where she landed on top of him. She pulled her Glock from its holster and aimed, leaning on Rafael’s back as much to cover his body and keep his head down as to give her a steady firing platform. “Stay down,” she said into his ear.

But it was already over. There had been only one shot: Fin dropping the defendant where he stood.

The courtroom filled with the cries of terrified onlookers and court staff, the judge pounding her gavel and screaming ineffectually for order, and the chaotic banging and scraping of fifty people trying to escape from the room using the same two doors. Laura didn’t immediately let Rafael up – she surveyed the entire courtroom from where she lay on top of him behind the table to ensure that there was no further threat. The other detectives were doing the same. When they saw that there was no more danger, the rest of the team began to assist those in distress and work to calm the general panic. 

Laura levered herself off of Rafael’s back and sat up next to where he lay prone on the floor. She holstered her gun, then gave him a quick but thorough once-over and saw no blood. _“¿Estas bien?”_[1]

Rafael began to roll to a sitting position. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

Laura put her hand on his shoulder and pushed off him to stand. She offered him her hand to help him up, which he declined. “I’m good here.”

She squatted down next to him. “Look at me, Rafael.”

He did. Her heart contracted at being this close to him, looking into his beautiful green eyes.

“You’re OK,” she said, nodding slightly at the same time and willing him to believe it. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m OK.” He didn’t look, or sound, convinced.

Laura, not knowing what else to say and not wanting to crowd him, especially given their circumstances, stood up and said, “I’m gonna see what I can do here.”

For the next two hours, each member of the team was busy taking statements from those who had been present during the shooting. They assisted the crime scene unit and the Medical Examiner as they did their work, finally helping to load the body onto a cart for transport to the morgue. As Laura turned away afterward, she noticed that there were less than ten people left in the room. One of them was Rafael, sitting slumped in his accustomed place at counsel table, head down, hands folded in front of him. He stared at a legal pad that she could see had nothing written on it.

She walked over and leaned on the rail near him. 

“You saved my life,” he said, not looking at her. 

She pulled a chair from the defense table and sat down facing him across his table, trying to figure out what a neutral distance was. After what had just happened, she knew to let him speak if he wanted to, or just sit with him if he didn’t.

“You knocked me down. If he’d have shot, he’d have hit you instead of me.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

He looked up at her with his eyes, not moving his head.

“That’s why I knocked you down. Bullet would’ve gone right over our heads. Anyway, Fin got him.” She deliberately tried to keep her voice neutral, factual. She wouldn’t deny the reality of the situation, but needed to avoid feeding his reaction.

“And then you stayed there, protecting me. Why did you do that?”

“You know why. It’s the job.” 

He didn’t respond. He looked over at the bloodstain where Cameron’s body had been. A team of custodians was already beginning work to clean the stained area of the floor. 

“By tomorrow, that’ll be gone, and it’ll be like this never happened.” He sighed. “Except it won’t.”

“No. It won’t. But you’ll be OK anyway.”

They sat in silence. After a few minutes, Lieutenant Benson called to them that it was late and there was nothing more to be done, so the team was leaving. 

“We’ll be right behind you,” Laura answered in a casual voice, waving nonchalantly. There were some intrigued looks between the other members of the squad.

“I didn’t think he’d do anything. I thought he was all talk.”

“Most of them are.”

“But you and Fin took him seriously.”

“That’s – “

“The job, I know. But I feel like I should’ve been shot, just for being such a colossal idiot.”

“Good grief, Rafael, if stupidity was a capital offense… I know there’s a good joke there, but I’m too tired to think of it right now.”

Rafael actually chuffed and his lips twisted at that. “Raincheck.”

“Thanks.” 

Again they fell into silence. Rafael was busy processing what had happened. He appreciated Laura just sitting with him, not pushing or preaching, just letting him work it through. With anyone else, he might have felt the need to be cool, to downplay his reaction. But even after everything that had happened between them – or maybe because of it – he didn’t think he needed to waste the effort with her. When the custodial team actually began mopping up pooled blood, Rafael decided he’d had enough. 

“Let’s go home,” he said. 

“Let’s.” 

They both liked the way that sounded. As they walked slowly from the courtroom, somewhat farther apart than perhaps other coworkers might, Rafael thought how much he needed to spend the evening with her in her cheerful, laid-back apartment. He needed to eat takeout in front of a ridiculously violent movie where The Rock did impossible stunts and beat the hell out of everyone he came across, and he needed Laura next to him wearing one of her grubby outfits, with her hair pulled thoughtlessly into a knot on top of her head. And then he needed to make love and fall asleep holding one another. 

The similarity of their thoughts, had they known it, would have shocked them both. But they would have to settle for being together in the same car on the ride home.

Both were quiet, awkward, uncomfortable, trying to figure out how to be together outside of work. They’d had drinks with the whole squad a couple of times since Rafael had ended their relationship, which had been a little awkward at first, although liquor helped. But this was the first time they’d been together alone since their breakup. It helped that they’d just been through a traumatic experience, which gave them an obvious topic of conversation and also the bond that unites people who have been through such an event. But there was a massive, obnoxious elephant in the room that was pretty hard to ignore.

They walked down the street, far enough apart that there was no chance their hands would accidentally touch, making occasional innocuous remarks about the September weather and the shortening of the days that comes with the season. Laura knew that she should try to get Rafael to talk about Cameron’s attempt to shoot him. But she was uncomfortably aware of her angry words to him that first day, when she had told him that they were not friends, and that he was no longer allowed to ask whether she was OK. She decided to do the right thing, and let him call her a hypocrite if he wanted to. The fact was, she would do the same thing for any of the other members of the team in a similar situation.

“So, um… Cameron. It’s supposed to be helpful if you talk about this kind of stuff.”

“So Lindstrom said,” Rafael responded, referring to the therapist Olivia Benson had insisted he see after he was abducted.

“Yeah, I guess this isn’t your first time to the dance, is it?”

“And I can’t help but notice that this stuff didn’t happen to me before I met you. Coincidence?”

Oh, it felt good to hear that gentle, teasing tone in his voice after so long! It hurt terribly, too, but Laura was used to everything wonderful he did reminding her of what she’d lost. She would have loved to say something clever back, but could think of nothing. Self-conscious and nervous, all she could do was smile.

“Lindstrom wanted me to tell him the whole story of what happened with Rhee. Apparently, that’s healing. But this… you were there. You know what happened.”

“Actually, it would be interesting to hear it from your perspective. I mean, did you expect me to tackle you?”

“No! As a matter of fact, I was meaning to ask you how you got there. How much do you weigh, anyway? It felt like I got hit by a truck.”

“You did not just ask me how much I weigh! I know your _mami_ taught you better than that.”

“I stand corrected. Still felt like a truck.”

“Thank you. Or sorry. Not sure which.”

“Thank you? Why would it be thank you?”

“OK so maybe for you it’s sorry. But if I tackle a bad guy – sorry, offender or suspect, not bad guy – I’d be thrilled if he felt like he got hit by a truck.” 

Laura had exaggerated the way she said “offender or suspect”, making gentle fun of his instructions to her during their first witness prep meeting together. Rafael would like to have been able to spit out a few curse words when he actually felt his dick twitch just from being teased by her. His mind went temporarily blank and he completely forgot what they were talking about. _¡Coño!_[2] Three months apart, and she still affected him every bit as much as she ever had.

Fortunately for him, she went on. “You might not have noticed it, you were too busy pontificating, but-“

“Pontificating? I do not pontificate.”

“Waxing eloquent?”

“Better.”

“Anyway, you were putting your thing down,” she looked mischievously at him, causing yet more agitation in his pants and his mind to once again go offline temporarily. “So you weren’t watching Cameron. But we were, and the bailiffs were, because it was clear he was going to blow. So when he did, I hopped the rail and covered you.”

“Literally.”

“But that’s _my_ story. You were supposed to be telling me _your_ story.”

They reached the parking garage and, as he always did, he unlocked his car and opened her door for her. As she always did, she found that small courtesy disproportionately sexy.

When they’d buckled in and Rafael was starting the car, he said, “I honestly didn’t see it. I was concentrating on _putting my thing down_,” he looked that teasing, under-the-eyebrows look at her and suddenly it was her whose body was responding. “I was in the zone. I had an outline, and I was running through it. Maybe paying a little attention to how ill Mr. Langan was starting to look… And then Cameron stood up and the next thing I knew, OOF.” 

“And…?”

“And I… wasn’t quite sure what had happened for a second. I think I felt you hit me at the same time I heard the gunshot. I think.”

“Happened pretty fast. I’m not sure, either.”

“Which means if Fin hadn’t gotten him, you might not have gotten there in time.” The drop in the volume and register of Rafael’s voice evidenced the effect this realization had on him.

“Fin got him,” she said in a quiet, but firm voice.

“Yes, but…” 

The implications hung in the air for a moment.

In the same quiet tone, Laura asked, “Did you and Dr. Lindstrom ever talk about ‘what ifs’?”

“A little.”

“Dr. Charles said you look at them like you’re window shopping. You acknowledge them, say ‘isn’t that interesting’, and move on.”

“Lindstrom said something similar. Maybe not as picturesque.”

“Fin got him, Rafael.”

“Yeah.”

A few minutes of silence ensued, during which they each followed their own thoughts. 

“I have to thank you for being there. Again.”

“Someone messes with you, they mess with me.”

“So I’ve heard. Nice to know it still applies.” 

That night, after they said an uncomfortable good night as Rafael took the elevator and Laura the stairs to their respective apartments, Laura let herself into her apartment just before the tears became uncontrollable. Everything about Rafael was the same: all the things she loved about the way he looked, his ability to tease her in a way that felt like foreplay, the smoldering looks he didn’t even know he gave, the way he smelled when she was close enough… Everything but one, crucial thing. He didn’t want her. For the first time in weeks, she found herself sitting on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking to dissipate some of the biting ache of loss. 

It was one of those nights when Rafael laid awake, unable to think of anything but Laura. He didn’t even care that it hurt like hell. He couldn’t stop, and he didn’t want to.

[1] Are you OK?

[2] All-purpose swear word.


	42. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The SVU team interrogates a particularly difficult suspect. Rafael Barba asks OC Laura Parker to help him get a confession.

The guy had been weaving his contorted way through every questioning technique they’d tried on him. None of them had been able to build rapport with him. Threats, promises, and intimidation didn’t work. Role-playing had failed entirely because he’d seen through it instantly. He was intuitive in the extreme; he could spot a weakness or sore spot instantly from the slightest clue. Once he did, he would use it to slash at the person so that, rather than continuing to press the questioning, they would recoil to defend themselves. It was classic manipulative narcissist behavior, and the squad had been watching him do it successfully for over six hours. Nothing was working with him. They were all tired, seriously pissed off at him, and frustrated. 

The worst part was that they knew he was enjoying the game. He hadn’t asked for a lawyer because any lawyer would have ended the interrogation, and he wasn’t done sporting with them yet. But they could not stop. If they let him go, it was entirely likely that they’d never get a hold of him again, and a dead certainty that he would go back to victimizing pretty much every woman who had the misfortune of meeting him. They couldn’t arrest him without more evidence, so they had to keep him talking in the interrogation room.

Olivia and Carisi shuffled out of the interrogation room, drained and stymied. 

“That asswipe is not gonna give it up,” Carisi griped. “I say we just toss him out the window, tell the brass he escaped.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Olivia sighed. “I couldn’t take one more minute in there with that slime.”

“What’s left to try?” Fin asked. 

“I don’t know. Maybe we need to just give up trying to get him to say anything we can use. Get him the old-fashioned way, with physical evidence.”

“Abrams doesn’t leave physical evidence. That’s the problem,” Rafael noted.

“Let’s not give up just yet,” Laura said. “We’ve been watching this creep for six hours now, and his moves are starting to get predictable. Plus, you’ve been taking turns with him. He’s been in there the whole time. He’s gotta be more tired than we are.”

“I just don’t think we’re gonna get anything out of him,” Olivia said. “We’ve tried everything.”

Rafael looked at Benson, his head tilted slightly, a nasty smirk suddenly appearing on his face. There was a definite wicked gleam in his eye. “Not everything.”

He turned to Laura. “Wanna have some fun?” 

Simply based upon sly, sexy look on his face, Laura would have agreed to absolutely anything. “What are you thinking?”

“Just follow me.”

He opened the interrogation room door and waved her in.

“Mr. Abrams, I’m Detective Parker, this is Assistant District Attorney Barba.” They sat down on the other side of the table facing the handsome, well-groomed blond.

“Oh. Conceding defeat, huh? The game is lost, so they’re sending in the benchwarmers to get a little practice since they can’t do any harm?”

Rafael raised an eyebrow and directed his words to Laura. “Clearly doesn’t know baseball or business. Not familiar with the concept of a closer.”

Abrams sneered. “Parker. Laura Parker. Formerly of the Chicago PD. Been with the NYPD just two years.”

Rafael shrugged. “On the plus side, he knows how to use Google.”

“You see a computer in here? Have I had time to look you up since you walked in here?”

Laura, quickly picking up on Rafael’s game, shrugged and leaned insolently back in her chair. “You didn’t have to, you transparent twat. You’ve been committing sex crimes in New York for, what, ten years? Any moron who makes a habit of that would have looked to see who might be coming after him.”

Rafael made a note on his legal pad. “Not as smart as they said he was.”

“You guys fucking?” Abrams asked.

“Also not that creative,” Laura said to Rafael.

“Stupid cunt,” Abrams sighed.

“As I said…” Laura gestured to Rafael at the predictability of the insult before turning to Abrams. “You people. You all think you’re so special.”

“’You people’?”

Rafael shrugged. “Manipulators. You think because you could bamboozle some housewife in Queens, you’re Rasputin. You’re like the fourth one this week for us, so don’t take it personally if we’re not impressed.”

The slightest ripple of irritation crossed Abrams’s features. “You’re the A.D.A., huh? Are you here to offer me a deal?”

Rafael sat immobile. “No,” he said, his face and voice entirely neutral.

Abrams skipped a beat. Not much to grab onto with someone who didn’t speak. “Hey, man, that’s a hell of a suit. Etro?”

Again, Rafael simply said in a flat voice, “No.”

“So you watch the obituaries and find yourself a young widow. You Google her, follow her around for a while, figure out your approach, and go after her,” Laura tried.

Rafael stepped in before Abrams could respond. “Yawn. Teenagers do that every day to get prom dates.”

Laura continued. “You bleed her dry, then dump her.”

“Been done by every bleached blonde with fake tits ever,” Rafael sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“She threatens to go to the cops, you stage a break-in, rape and kill her.”

“The plot of every bargain bin mystery novel since Adam. Exact same story with Michelle Trujillo, Myra Simpkins, and three other women. What, exactly, is supposed to be so special about you?” 

Abrams didn’t like the way there were two conversations going on, one of which was about him but didn’t involve him. And he definitely didn’t like the attitude of these new assholes. “Well, obviously they thought I was special, they couldn’t get enough of me. They wanted to show their appreciation so they gave me gifts. Want me to show you what’s special about me?” He leered at Laura.

“To quote my friend here, no.” She answered.

“So what exactly makes a snotty little bitch like you want to work sex crimes? You a prude? Can’t stand the idea of anyone having a good time while you’re home with your cats?” He squinted at her and leaned across the table, getting closer to Laura as he spoke. “Actually, no. That’s not it. I think it’s the opposite. You get a front row seat to the sickest shit people can do to each other, and you get off on it. Tell me something, did you see those disgusting pictures your friends were waving around earlier? Do you email yourself copies of those kinds of pictures so you can enjoy them later, when you’re all alone?”

“Bored now,” Laura said flatly. 

Abrams made a disturbingly lewd gesture.

Rafael asked the next question without either of them reacting to what Abrams had done. “Where’s the money?”

“What money?”

“Ah.” She looked at Rafael, as though Abrams’ question had spoken unintended volumes. “It’s gone. Spent it all.”

“Not all,” Rafael disagreed, as though contemplating the ways a fool like this could squander money. “Maybe spent half on clothes, and lost the rest gambling.”

“I’m thinking he spent a fair amount on hair products,” she replied, the angle of her gaze making it clear that she was talking to Rafael.

Abrams fumed, the superiority and amusement in their faces and voices having exactly the intended effect. He was really starting not to like the snarky conversation about him taking place as though he wasn’t there.

Rafael turned to Abrams. “You better have another housewife lined up, then.”

“Poughkeepsie this time?” Laura suggested. “You could probably find someone naïve and desperate enough to buy – “ she raised her hand up and down to indicate him. “What you’re selling.” 

Rafael and Laura could both see Abrams’ anger. He turned to Rafael to give himself a moment to regroup. “She’s a piece of work. Got a mouth on her. You have to work with her all the time? You better keep that mouth busy, brother. If I had to listen to that every day, I’d…”

“Stage a break-in, rape and kill her. We know,” Rafael finished for him, rolling his eyes in disdain as only Rafael could.

“You know, I was right about you,” Abrams put an arrogant smirk on his face as he crossed his arms. Only the tightness of his posture belied the crumbling control behind his fake contempt. “You really are the practice team, aren’t you? Your friends at least tried to get me to talk. You’re not even doing that. Lemme guess, you just here to make it look like the NYPD hasn’t given up. You’re pathetic. This isn’t even fun anymore, I think I’m losing IQ points just from being in the room with you.”

Laura and Rafael both knew they had him at that point. His insults had been much subtler and more pointedly specific earlier in the day. Laura put her elbow on the table and rested her head on it listlessly. Rafael began to doodle on his legal pad.

“You really are a hopeless dyke. Why don’t you get on your knees and at least make yourself useful? Even you oughtta be able to follow some simple directions. C’mon, get over here and suck me, then this day won’t be a total loss. Maybe I’ll even bend you over this table and treat you to an ass-fucking you won’t –“

Laura rolled her eyes, sat back in her chair, and began to pantomime male masturbation with a disinterested expression. Fortunately, that pushed Abrams over the edge because Rafael couldn’t hide his shocked amusement at seeing her make such an unexpected and vulgar gesture.

Abrams lunged across the table at her. “You fucking cunt! I’ll gut you, bitch! I’ll show you what a man can do – “ 

As he reached for her throat, as she’d expected him to, she took one of his wrists in both her hands and came around the table as she twisted his arm up behind him. She kept his arm in one hand and used the other to push his head down on the table. Rafael had expected him to snap, as well, so he simply stood up to make sure he could react if necessary. 

“Yeah?” Laura sneered in Abrams’ ear. “What man? All I see is you. No wonder you have to go after lonely widows in the ‘burbs.”

He reared back, throwing her off-balance and backward, which gave him the opportunity to whip around and grab her by the throat. He didn’t see her motion behind him for Rafael not to interfere. “You’ll be begging me to kill you when I’m done with you!”

Laura clasped her hands together and, with the strength of both arms, drove her elbow under his chin, surprising and momentarily stunning him. As she expected, he was so enraged that he let go of her throat so she could gulp some air, and drew an arm back to punch her. He was big and very strong, but that only meant she was much faster than he was. She simply moved aside so that he drove his fist full-force into the grating over the window. He roared with pain and fury, and began blindly swinging. He did catch her on the side of the head, but due to the angle of the blow, it had nowhere near the power he was capable of. 

“This is it? How the hell did you kill those women when you’re this weak and slow?” 

She let him grab her around the waist and wrestle her to the floor. “I’ll tell you how, bitch, those broads had no idea who they were dealing with. They were all, ‘oh, Neil, what are you doing, don’t hurt me!’ I didn’t even have to tie them up – just fucked the brainless cows while they whined about how they loved me. I had my knife in them before they even realized it was really happening! You, now, you’re gonna be more fun, you got a little fight in –“

At that moment, having baited him into confessing, Laura relaxed her arms and legs. She had been holding them spread just enough that he would think he had her in a firm grip. When she relaxed them, she had a split second to twist violently to one side, putting her in the perfect position to knee him solidly in the groin. It was over at that point, although Fin and Olivia burst into the room. 

Laura crab-walked out off the way until her back rested against the wall, catching her breath and watching Fin cuff and arrest Abrams. He was still spewing vile threats, but no one was paying much attention. Fin escorted him from the room to be booked, a tired but amused grin on his face.

Olivia crouched down to check on Laura. Rafael stood behind him, concerned but fairly confident she was not badly hurt.

“You OK?”

“Of course.”

“Nice job,” Olivia said.

“Not really. You knew he had to be tired. All we did was poke him until he went off.”

Rafael smirked. “Anytime you need to piss someone off, Parker’s your girl.”

Laura laughed out loud as Olivia helped her to her feet. 

“I wouldn’t take bets on the outcome of a contest between you and me in that area, if I were you.”

For the first time in four months, Rafael and Laura stood simply smiling at one another.


	43. The End Of The Rope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba witnesses a drunken Peter Stone punch a man in a bar. Barba takes steps to prevent consequences, but not for Stone's sake. OC Laura Parker comes to take Stone home and it is clear it's not the first time she's had to do that. Barba helps out and then comforts her.

Rafael was seated in his usual chair at Forlini’s, having a drink while he worked on his opening statement for the trial beginning in a couple of days. He didn’t expect this one to plead out, which is why he’d worked until 11:00 pm in his office, and was still working on it here. He’d just needed to stretch his legs, maybe get a little change of scenery to keep his mind sharp. Unfortunately, he had the misfortune to sit down and order a drink before he’d noticed Peter Stone down the bar. Stone was currently having a rather heated conversation with a guy Rafael hadn’t seen before. It was distracting, to say the least. _One more reason to detest that guy_, Barba thought. He was going to have to finish his drink and leave.

He heard a scuffle and looked up to see Stone push the guy he was arguing with. It wasn’t much, just a shove in the chest, but it was clearly intended to start something. _Hay, por el amor de Dios. ¿Seriamente?_[1] Fortunately for Stone – and Rafael – the guy had the sense to hold up his hands and back up. But he didn’t leave. 

Rafael indulged in a major internal eyeroll. _How can she be in love with that sodden imbecile? I’d have thought she’d have better taste._ He went back to his legal pad and his opening statement. In a fortuitous moment, he happened to hit a groove and forgot everything for a while as he came up with a brilliant analogy to use. If he did say so himself. 

**CRASH!** The sound ripped Rafael back to the present. He looked toward the noise and saw Stone looming over the guy he’d been arguing with, who was now prostrate on the floor with a split lip. _¡Joder!_ Ever politically-minded, Rafael knew a brewing tabloid headline when he saw one. For the sake of the D.A.’s office, and the reputations of everyone who worked there who wasn’t currently plastered and trying to start a fight, he was going to have to stop this before it started. Barba and Jack, the bartender, reached the combatants at the same time. 

Jack stood in front of Stone, wisely not confronting him directly or trying to grab him, simply interposing his body between Stone and the man on the floor. Barba extended a hand to the guy and helped him up, also wise in his choice to position himself at the man’s head so that, when he stood, he was a good six feet from Stone. Barba solicitously helped the man brush off and straighten his clothes, handing him a linen napkin use on his bleeding lip. 

“Hey, buddy, you OK? Why don’t you take a seat at this table, and I’ll get you some ice and a drink. OK?”

The man was a little stunned by the whole series of events, and not drunk, as Rafael had naturally assumed. He was a little tipsy, but apparently he was mostly just stupid. Not understanding who Rafael was, but acknowledging to himself that Peter Stone could easily take him in a fight and he needed a graceful way out of this, he acquiesced and sat at a table, facing away from Stone. 

Jack had been busy, too. Stone was sitting, shaking his right hand as though it hurt, and appeared to be willing to behave, if not yet calm. Unlike the other guy, Stone was extremely drunk. Blotto. Rafael wondered how long he’d been here. He watched Jack go back behind the bar and put some ice in a towel, then come back down the bar to hand it to Peter for his hand. 

“Can I get another one of those, for the other guy? And a Bud Light?” Even in the current circumstances, it was hard for Rafael to order such a thing without a shudder.

When Jack went down the bar to get the ice, Rafael followed him. “I’m going to give you a number. Call Laura Parker. Tell her to get here as fast as she can.”

“Don’t need it, Counselor. I already called her. She should be here soon.”

“Clearly a master of your craft,” Rafael smiled.

“Thanks for your help.” Jack handed Rafael the towel filled with ice and the beer. 

“Don’t thank me yet. I still have some rather delicate work to do.”

Rafael gave the ice and the beer to the man, whose name was Carl Dunfee, sympathetically telling him that he’d be back in just a few minutes. Dunfee shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure why the dude was coming back, but whatever. Maybe he owned the bar or something.

Rafael went and stood close enough to Stone to hiss into his ear. _Mierda_[2], the guy smelled like he had been aged in a cask for twelve years. _Not a bad idea_, Barba thought. 

“You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are,” Stone slurred, annoyed. 

“Then you know that you pulled that stunt in front of the wrong witness. So listen to me, and listen well. I’m only going to say this once. I am going to try to keep your ass out of a sling. You don’t deserve it, and I’m sure as hell not doing it for you. I may not be able to do it at all. That moron gets the idea he’s got your balls in a vise and a tort case worth some money, your life as you know it is over. Understand?”

Stone huffed and drank the last of whatever he had been overindulging in. He didn’t look at Barba, but he had the sense – no, simple survival instinct, Barba thought, this booze-soaked git had no sense, at least at the moment - not to speak.

“So you are going to sit here, and you are going to keep your mouth shut. You will do nothing. _Nothing_, you understand? And when Laura gets here, you are going to leave without a word.”

“Laura’s coming here?” The look on Stone’s face was deep chagrin coupled with what could only be called fear. He looked as if Barba had announced he’d called Stone’s mother. Stone was still spoiling for a fight, the way only drunks can be, but Rafael’s threats appeared to have penetrated the alcohol fog, at least for now.

“And if you give her one instant of trouble, if you make one more asinine move tonight, I will instruct her to arrest you and you’ll spend the night in the drunk tank. Clear?”

Stone again chose not to respond, but looked daggers at the bar in front of him.

One down, one to go.

“Sorry, man. I know that guy. He can be a dick. My name is Rafael.”

“Carl. Dunfee.”

Rafael purposely hadn’t given his surname and was careful not to use his usual firm, take-control handshake. He wished he had casual clothes on, but at least he’d hung his jacket and vest up in his car. “What was that about, Carl?”

“Guy’s a blowhard. Thinks he knows baseball.”

“Baseball.” It took all Rafael’s strength not to express his exasperation. 

“Yeah. And he hit me, man! Look at this.” He showed Rafael the towel, which had a fair amount of blood on it. His lip, though swollen, looked like it had stopped bleeding.

“C’mon. It’s not that bad.” 

Dunfee was a bit disappointed in Rafael’s reaction to his injury. “Dude punched me!” 

“Yeah, I saw that. But he’s pretty soused. Between you and me, I’m surprised he didn’t miss you entirely. Lucky for you, it was such a feeble attempt.”

“He knocked me down.”

Rafael laughed, as though the guy had taken a pratfall for his amusement. “Yeah. Wish I’d have had my camera out. You shoulda seen your face!” 

Laura arrived at that moment, wearing clingy but faded sweatpants and that tattered old jeanjacket of hers over a plain white T-shirt. She looked like she’d been in bed when Jack had called and hadn’t bothered to brush her hair before running out the door. Rafael shook his head to stop the image of Laura in bed from fully forming in his mind. She walked over to Stone and an agitated, whispered conversation ensued. She tried to take his arm as though to escort him out, but he pulled his arm away and didn’t move. 

Carl Dunfee was beginning to feel like a little bit of a fool. Had he looked stupid falling down like that? He’d had the idea that he’d been brutally punched and violently knocked to the floor, like a Schwarzenegger movie. But this Rafael seemed to have seen something different. Maybe it seemed worse than it was. He’d been thinking maybe he could sue the guy, or the bar, but he didn’t want to look like a pussy. 

“Yeah, guy’s big, but he hits like a girl,” Carl tried.

“I’m not surprised, pretty boy like that,” Rafael smirked. 

“Right?” Carl was warming up to the idea that nothing much had happened, because that drunk guy in the suit wasn’t so tough.

As they made small talk, Rafael watched Laura plead quietly with Stone, then get angry, then go back to pleading. Stone was getting louder again. 

Rafael stood up. This was getting really fucking old. “Hey, looks like your friend’s giving his girlfriend a little bit of trouble. I’m going to see if I can help out. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, I’m going to get out of here. See ya’,” Carl said, giving a dismissive head toss in Stone’s direction as though to mock his idea that he could hurt Carl.

_Just in time_, Rafael thought. He stepped over to where Laura was standing next to Stone, who still sat on his barstool. He put on his most severe Senior A.D.A. face. 

“Tell me you are not refusing to leave,” he snarled at Stone.

Closer up, he could see that Laura had tears in her eyes.

“What’s it to you?” Stone whined irritably.

“Your entire career. Because unless you walk out of here right now, I’m going to have you arrested for drunk and disorderly, assault and battery, and anything else I can think of while you’re drying out at the Tombs. I seriously dislike having to repeat myself.”

“Fuck you,” Stone muttered, but he got up from his barstool. 

Laura mouthed “Thank you” behind Stone’s back with look of tired, discouraged gratitude. Rafael acknowledged it with a nod and watched them walk out the door. He waited to see them get into the cab, or whatever car had brought Laura, but they stood on the sidewalk, Laura looking both ways down the street. Her back was to him, but he thought he saw her wipe a tear. As she pulled out her phone, Rafael went out the door to stand next to her. 

“What?”

“I told the Uber guy to wait, said I’d pay him in cash for the time. I should’ve known he wouldn’t when he made me end the trip here. He said something about getting more money if there and back was two trips. Fuck!” She was clearly barely holding it together. 

“Stay here. I’m around the corner. Give me five minutes.”

The exhausted, defeated look on her face tore at him. He actually caught himself starting to reach out to her to comfort her. He cleared his throat and went back in to pay his tab and collect his things. 

When he pulled his car to the curb outside the front entrance of Forlini’s, he could see that things were still tense between Laura and Stone, but he seemed to be fading. What an asshole. If he passed out and made Rafael drag his sorry ass into his apartment…

The drive to Stone’s apartment building was quiet except for Laura’s occasional directions to Rafael. Stone was still apparently conscious, but in that pie-eyed state where it’s hard to make sense of what’s happening. _Quel asno_[3]. 

Due to the late hour, and the fact that it was a weekday, Rafael was able to pull up in front of Stone’s building. When Stone tried to get out, he lost his balance just outside the car, causing Laura to sigh heavily and get out to help him. Rafael wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to help, too, until he saw how heavily Stone was leaning on Laura, and how much trouble she was having getting him to the door. Stone was huge compared to her. Rafael swore colorfully and got out.

He stepped up to Stone’s side, opposite Laura, and put Stone’s other arm around his neck, so that he and Laura were supporting Stone between them. Stone was so out of it now that he said nothing all the way up to his apartment door. Rafael noticed with a painful pang that Laura had the key to Stone’s apartment on her key ring. For just a moment, he flashed back on the night he had taken his own key back from her. At this moment, she looked about as miserable as she had that night. 

They dragged Stone to his bed, where Laura pulled off his jacket and tie before they let him fall gracelessly onto the mattress. Laura silently lifted his legs onto the bed, removed his shoes, propped him on his side with some pillows, and covered him. Then she went to the bathroom, coming out with a glass of water, a bottle of aspirin, and a towel. Every move was automatic and efficient. Practiced.

“How many times have you done this?” Rafael couldn’t stop himself from asking. He was appalled. 

She didn’t answer. Instead, she opened a door just outside the bedroom, took a bucket from what looked like a linen closet, and set it down next to the bed. 

“OK,” she said, her voice a quiet sigh. Rafael followed her back out of the dark apartment and they silently returned to his car. 

As they drove, Laura began to wipe tears from her eyes. At first, she tried to be surreptitious about it, but they were soon falling too fast for her to do anything but pull a tissue from her jacket and wipe them. Glancing over, Rafael could see that she was biting her lip, and appeared to be trying to hold her breath. One quiet sob escaped her.

Rafael stroked her hair, just once, and said, “Go ahead and cry. There’s no one here to hear you.”

At that, she covered her face with her hands and bent double, huge sobs beginning to wrack her body. Rafael reached over and opened the glove compartment, pulling a small packet of tissues from it and handing them to her. She continued to cry uncontrollably, long periods of loud, staccato cries mixed with gasps for air and moans of despair. It wasn’t until they turned into Rafael’s parking garage that she regained enough control to sit back up, groaning loudly, head on the headrest and eyes toward heaven.

“This is so humiliating,” she choked. “I just… I can’t do anything! He won’t talk to me, he won’t listen. And I hate that you saw him like that. That’s not who he is.” 

Rafael pulled the car into his parking spot and turned off the engine. He leaned over, put a hand on either shoulder, and pulled her into his arms across the storage box, cupholders, and gearshift that divided the seats. She rested her head on his shoulder, then buried her face in his chest as she began crying in earnest once again. He just held her, stroking her back and her hair. He occasionally brushed a kiss across her hair, wanting nothing more than to crush her to him. 

He had no idea what to think. How long had it been this bad? How many times had she been called to take Stone, drunk and belligerent, out of a public place? He understood, from what she had told him, that she felt like she owed it to him for her own past behavior toward him. He could also see tiny glimpses, a touch here, a look there, a well-deserved retort that was nonetheless bitten back, that she truly, genuinely cared for Stone. But, even to Rafael’s jaded and suspicious eyes, it didn’t look like there was anything romantic or sexual between them anymore. 

He let her go as soon as she quieted and began to push away from him. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This isn’t your problem.”

“Let’s get you home,” he replied gently.

When they got out to the street to walk the block to their apartment building, Rafael wondered whether she would let him take her hand. Probably not. She had her hands in the pockets of her jeanjacket, anyway. The late October air had a definite bite to it, this late at night.

“Thank you, Rafael,” Laura said sheepishly as he held the building’s door open for her. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“I’m glad I could help,” he said, daring to grasp her shoulder lightly for a brief moment. “You did save my life a while back.”

Her small exhale couldn’t really be counted as a laugh, but he was glad he’d lightened the mood even a fraction. They entered the elevator when it arrived, and pushed the buttons for their floors. When the doors closed, Laura crossed her arms across her body, hands on her waist, as though trying to give herself a comforting hug. Rafael couldn’t stand that small, sad, lonely gesture. He stepped toward her and took her into his arms. She immediately put her arms around him. As the elevator slowly climbed, they stood together, just sharing the warmth of closeness.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said into her hair as the doors opened at Laura’s floor. He walked close beside her down her hallway, offering whatever comfort his presence would be to her. 

She opened her door when they reached it, then, standing just inside, turned to him. Taking his hands in hers, she looked up at him. “I don’t have words to tell you how much I appreciate… everything you did tonight. Thank you.”

“That’s what friends are for,” he said, looking down at her with such adoration that her eyes were pulled to his, becoming locked into his gaze. She wanted to stay there, with him looking at her like that - like he cared for her, like she was precious to him – forever. She felt her soul filling with something that it had been starving for. He drank in this contact, this connection he’d been aching for, with a thirst that consumed him. Just looking into her eyes couldn’t fill his heart fast enough. He took a tiny step toward her, leaning in, so slowly she could hardly believe it was happening until their lips touched softly.

Standing in her doorway, holding hands, they shared a soft, tender kiss that was far too important, too full of meaning and shared emotion, to have much to do with sex. 

When it was right, their lips parted, and they stood close together, foreheads touching. 

“_Feliz noche._[4]” Rafael whispered.

“_Dulces sueños._[5]” Laura answered.

He squeezed her hands and turned down the hall, taking the stairs to his own apartment.

Somehow, they both understood that the kiss hadn’t changed anything. It had simply confirmed that, regardless of the hash they’d made of things, the bond they shared was unbreakable. It was Rafael’s way of being there for Laura, and Laura’s way of accepting. Neither of them expected to be able to go to bed with quiet minds and sleep contentedly. But they did.

[1] Oh, for the love of God. Seriously?

[2] Shit

[3] What an ass.

[4] Good night.

[5] Sweet dreams.


	44. By Dawn's Early Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone tells OC Laura Parker that he is ready to do something about his grief and guilt over his sister's death, and the self-destructive things he's been doing to try to survive it. It's the answer to Laura's prayers, but it comes at a hideous cost. But first, Peter gives Laura one more, supremely generous gift.

Laura hadn’t heard much from Peter since she and Rafael had brought him home from Forlini’s over a week before. He’d responded briefly and uncommunicatively to her texts, but she kept trying, until finally he sent her a text unprodded, asking her to meet him for lunch. She was surprised by such an unexpected invitation, and very curious about what it could mean. She could only hope whatever he had to say was good news, because she wasn’t sure she could stand much more of what was happening to him.

The restaurant was one Laura hadn’t been to before, although it wasn’t far from the D.A.’s office. As she walked in, she immediately noticed an overabundance of Halloween decorations that made her wonder why Peter would have chosen this place. Peter liked places with things like tablecloths and wine lists, and there was more of a diner atmosphere here, although it was clean and modern. Laura had little trouble spotting Peter. There was only one other man on the planet she was drawn to as she was to him. 

He sat in a small, semicircular banquette that would seat four, but only if they didn’t mind crowding together. The first thing she noticed was that he looked good. Of course, he would have to look better than the last time she’d seen him, but he actually looked better than he had in a while. His eyes were clear and bright, and he’d lost the pasty puffiness that had begun to encroach on his handsome features.

His hair was a little longer than he usually wore it. She smiled to herself, seeing that. He would say he needed a haircut but, in Laura’s opinion, it was only a good start. She had always liked his hair long and shaggy, the way he’d worn it when they first met. But it really didn’t matter how he wore his hair, she thought. He would always be the most gut-wrenchingly beautiful man she’d ever known.

She smiled and greeted him, a little winded from the trip over here, taking off her raincoat as it streamed water from the cold deluge outside. Peter slid out of the banquette while she fumbled with it, trying to figure out what to do with it. He took it from her and set it on top of his on one end of the banquette. 

Once he’d done that, he turned and reached for her, pulling her into a long, tight hug. When she’d begun to loosen her embrace, he’d held on, prompting her to reposition her arms and return to holding him as tightly as he was holding her. She didn’t let go until she felt him relax his embrace. If Peter needed a hug, she would cheerfully give him one.

Peter gestured for Laura to slide in behind the table, then slid in beside her, their hips touching.

“You should trust me and have pastrami on rye,” he said. “But since you hate rye, order it on sourdough. You’ll see why everyone from the office loves this place.”

“Done. How are you?” She asked, trying to sound casual.

“I’m… better.”

“You look better,” she said, the relief she felt creeping into her voice.

Peter stared at the cutlery pre-positioned on the table for a moment, letting his breath out in a long, slow exhale. “Sunshine, I’ve made some decisions. I want to tell you before you hear it from anyone else.”

“Tell me,” she said, putting a hand on his arm and leaving it there. So he _had_ invited her to lunch to tell her something. She braced for whatever it was.

“I don’t have to tell you I’ve been drowning for a while.”

Laura simply nodded.

“And I know you’ve been trying to throw me a life preserver, but I’ve been refusing to take it… I know what that feels like, and I’m sorry.”

“You never have to apologize to me, Peter. Not for that. I mean, the irony in this situation can’t have escaped you.”

One side of his mouth turned up in a bit of a smile. “I guess not. But, the thing is, I’m ready now.”

Laura, almost dizzy with sudden relief, smiled brightly and took his hand in both of hers. “Tell me what I can do. I’m with you no matter what.”

“Well, for one thing, I’m going to get some help. With Pam, with the drinking, with everything.”

Always demonstrative, and not wanting him to see her tears of relief, she threw her arms around him in the best attempt at a hug she could make sitting next to him in the little banquette. Burying her face in his shoulder, she said, “I’m so glad. You deserve it. You’re worth it.”

“Thanks, Sunny.” He patted her arm as she released him. 

“Do you know who you’re going to see? Do you want me to help you find someone?”

“No, I’ve found someone. I think I need someone who specializes in post-trauma counseling.”

“I agree.”

“And the best specialist I know is yours.”

“Mine… you mean Dr. Charles?”

“Yes.” He was looking at the silverware again.

“But Dr. Charles is in Chicago.”

“Yeah. Which is where I’ll be.” Peter dragged his eyes from the tabletop to look into Laura’s stunned face. 

“You’re… leaving?” 

“I think a change of scenery, and… this isn’t home anymore. My family’s gone, and I miss Chicago. That’s home now, and I want to go home.”

“But, Peter, I can’t go with you.” Laura tried to begin to comprehend what he was telling her. What it would mean for them. She hated even the idea of him being so far away.

“I know. I’m not asking you to.” 

“But I want you to ask me to! You and me, we’re… part of a whole. Those years we were apart, I was missing a big part of me. I need you in my life! You’re…. _Peter_.” 

He smiled sadly. “I know, Sunshine. You know it’s the same for me. But we’ll be OK. This won’t be like before. We’ll be in touch – all the time, if I know you. We’ll see each other sometimes.” 

Frightened, distraught tears sprang to her eyes. “I don’t want to see you sometimes! I want you here!”

“I’ll be as close as your phone.” 

Peter slid the napkin from under Laura’s silverware, and used it to dry her tears before handing it to her. For a few moments, she fought to calm herself. She had to be what Peter needed now. What she wanted didn’t matter. All that mattered was Peter’s wellbeing, his long-awaited surrender to the idea of allowing someone to help him navigate his way out of the abyss. Cost her what it would, she would not make this any harder for him.

“OK, I’ve had my selfish tantrum now. I know this is what you need to do. I know that it’s right. And I am completely behind you. Just… know how much I’ll miss seeing you.”

“Me too.”

“And, sweetheart, you’re wrong about one thing. Your family isn’t gone. You have a family, and you’ll be going home to them. They’re conveniently located very near Chicago. You’re as much a Parker as I am, and you know that.”

Peter’s eyes became moist and he began to fumble with the napkin on the table before him. At that moment, the waitress arrived and took their lunch order, giving Laura a moment to begin to absorb the idea of Peter leaving New York, and Peter a chance to recover his poise somewhat.

“That’s nice of you to say, Sunny.” 

“No, it isn’t. It’s just fact. My parents would fucking adopt you if you’d let them. And you know the bonehead brothers think you’re the coolest dude since… Fin.” 

Laura noticed that Peter grinned weakly, so she went on. “You could be Peter Parker. Which would be a pretty good career move, actually. Your opposing counsel might think they know you’re not really Spiderman, but they could never be absolutely sure…”

That got an actual smile.

“Do you think I’m an alcoholic?” He asked out of nowhere, picking up the glass of water the waitress had brought.

Laura took a moment to absorb the abrupt twist in the conversation, then frowned thoughtfully. “I think… you’ve been using alcohol and sex to try to escape something that’s too big for you. So I think it’s the wrong time to ask that question.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the time to ask whether you’re an alcoholic isn’t when you need to be drunk just to survive what you’re dealing with. Get help. Start dealing. And then see where you are.”

Peter looked thoughtful, digesting what she’d said.

“When’s the last time you drank?”

“That night at Forlini’s. The last time you brought me home.”

“Hmmm. That was almost two weeks ago. Anyway, here’s the deal. I can’t tell you whether you’re an alcoholic. But I can tell you a couple of things. First, I’d be a little surprised if you are, just because you can do things I can’t, like leave half a drink, or stop because you’ve had enough.”

“Not lately.”

“Yeah, but lately you’ve had to drink just to stay sane. The other thing I can tell you is, if you are an alcoholic, I will love you just like I do now. I might even love you just a teeny bit more. Drunks are my people. Either way, I’ll be right here for you.”

“Like always.”

Laura leaned into Peter. 

“Jack McCoy accepted my resignation last week.”

“Fuck. This is real. Wait – last week? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t ready. For you, my resigning from the D.A.’s office makes it real. For me, it’s telling you. By the way, Mark officially re-hired me at the State’s Attorney’s Office yesterday. Bastard gave me a promotion.”

Again Laura threw her arms around him. This time she lifted up and kissed him on the cheek. “Because you’re the best and you deserve it.”

“Don’t let your boyfriend hear you say that.”

Laura gave a derisive snort. “Let’s stay on topic, shall we? If you resigned two weeks ago, why didn’t I hear anything about it? Even just through the grapevine?”

“I asked McCoy to keep it quiet, and he understood. He agreed not to make any big announcement or anything, and not to make it public at all until the last minute.”

“How long do we have left before you leave?”

Peter hesitated. 

“Peter?”

“I’m leaving in the morning.”

“No!”

“You know I hate goodbyes. And I hate the hell out of leaving the place where you are. So I thought, if I have to say goodbye to you, I just want to get it over with.”

Laura was quiet, saying nothing as the waitress brought their sandwiches and they began to eat. She wanted to argue, to cry, to complain about such a one-sided decision that had robbed her of the chance to spend time with him before that was no longer an option. She reminded herself that her wants were irrelevant. She was not going to make this any harder for Peter.

“OK. For the record, I really want to say ‘not OK’. But OK.” Laura focused on her lunch to avoid trying to change Peter’s mind, or breaking into tears.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just… need things to be as simple as possible right now.”

“OK. Whatever you need.” She hoped she didn’t sound as whiny to Peter as she did to herself.

“I feel good,” Peter said resolutely. “I think this is right. Dr. Charles says it’s a good idea.”

“You’ve talked to him already?”

“He likes you, and I think Maggie might have put in a word. We’ve had our first two sessions already. By Skype.”

“Good,” Laura smiled. “Man, I miss Maggie.”

Peter sighed. “Speaking of missing people… That’s the only downside. I already miss you and I haven’t even left yet. And I hate leaving things the way they are.”

“What are you talking about? Things are fine. We’re good, aren’t we?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know how you can even look at me after everything I’ve done.”

Laura laughed, linking her arm with his for a moment and squeezing. Peter was at a loss. 

“That’s funny?”

“Oh, come the fuck on, Peter. After everything I put you through? It’s hilarious.”

He only frowned.

“I told you, you’re part of me,” Laura said, more softly. “I’m going to stand by you no matter what you do. If you beat up the Pope, I’d hold your briefcase for you. You might piss me off, and make me pull my hair out, maybe even make me cry from time to time, but that’s never gonna make me love you less.”

Peter skipped a beat. When he spoke, his voice had an entirely different quality than it had. Slowly, quietly, as though beholding something fascinating, he said, “You’re finally beginning to understand.”

Laura blinked. “Understand what?”

“All that time, when you were drinking, that’s how I felt.” 

Laura stopped chewing. What he had just said struck a deep chord in her. “Huh.” 

In all the time since Pam’s murder, with all Peter had done, and all that she’d felt about it, the thought of ceasing to love Peter had never even entered her mind. One thing simply didn’t lead to the other. Peter was hurt. He was just trying to survive. He wasn’t the one making the decisions. Not really. Maybe Laura being sick – having the disease of alcoholism – was a little like that for Peter. She’d have to give that some long, deep thought. 

Peter continued. “And now maybe you can begin to understand why I hated myself for so long for leaving you. I stopped holding your briefcase. I let it go.”

“Wait. No. That’s not right. Now maybe you can understand why that’s _not_ what you did. At that point, the only way you _could_ hold my briefcase for me was to stop protecting me and let me take the consequences of what I was doing.” 

Now Peter was the one saying, “Huh.” He thought that he was going to need to mull that over, maybe for quite a while. She’d said it before, but he had a new perspective now.

“Huh,” Laura echoed, not to mock him, but to acknowledge that they had each just learned something the other had been trying to tell them for a very long time.

They sat together, eating their sandwiches and turning these new perspectives over in their minds. 

“Too bad we’re just figuring this out now, when the next time I see you, you’ll be married to someone else,” Peter said sadly.

Laura huffed a small laugh. “If you’re talking about Rafael, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.”

He put down his sandwich to turn to her. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. “Tell me what?”

“What he did for you, the night I hit that guy.”

“What? What guy did you hit?”

Peter nodded. “I thought so. He didn’t tell you. The last night you picked me up at Forlini’s, they called you because I punched a guy. Laid him out on the floor.”

“Peter, no!”

“And Barba not only got me out of there before I could destroy my career and cause a scandal for the office, he also somehow talked the guy out of pressing charges or suing anyone. And we both know he didn’t do it for me. He did it for you.”

“He did it for the D.A.’s office. For himself.”

“He did it for you.”

“I don’t… um… Maybe, I guess.” Not eloquent, perhaps, but this was a confusing new piece of information, delivered immediately on top of the revelation about what it had been like for Peter when she was drinking.

“Sunshine, as a man who is in love with you, I recognize the symptoms. Rafael Barba is in love with you. And you’re in love with him. You two will figure it out. But if you want some advice, don’t waste any more time on whatever is standing in your way.” 

“Actually, _you’re_ standing in our way. Kind of. Sort of. I mean, not intentionally. He just doesn’t understand our friendship.”

“Who the hell does?” Peter laughed. “Do you? I don’t. But in any event, I’m about to get eight hundred miles _out of_ your way. So fix things with him. He’s not good enough for you, but then no one ever will be, in my opinion.”

They finished lunch, talking about lighter subjects. They laughed and reminisced, talked about what Peter’s new start would bring, and tried to enjoy being together, knowing the next time they saw each other could be a long time away. Laura insisted she wanted dessert, although what she really wanted was just a little more time with Peter. Things felt different already, and she hated it. Although this separation would be different from the four years they’d spent apart after their breakup, it was still going to be hard. They’d been close friends – with occasional backsliding into lovers – and in the same city for years now. They’d come to New York together. Somehow, they’d defied the odds and found a way to re-forge their connection in a new shape. Neither wanted to lose it again.

Eventually, they could no longer delay the inevitable. They hugged for a very long time on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. 

“I love you. That’s never going to change.” Laura said into Peter’s chest.

“I love you, Sunshine,” he responded. “And _that’s_ never going to change.” 

“Be well. Be happy. Try not to beat up the pope. But if you have to…”

“You’ll hold my briefcase.”

“Always.”

Laura let herself cry all the way back to the station house. 

She was in love with Rafael. She still had hope that maybe, in time, he would find his way back to her. And if he did, she would be waiting. But that had nothing to do with Peter. She found it amazing that, although what they had each been to her could be named using the same titles – boyfriend, significant other, lover – the similarities ended there. They were very different men, and her relationship with each was entirely different. For her, the hope that Rafael would find his way back to her was no comfort for the pain of Peter leaving. Rafael wasn’t a replacement for Peter. 

She felt waves of déjà vu wash over her as she once again mourned the loss of Peter from her life. It wasn’t the same as their breakup – he was right that she wouldn’t let them drift very far apart, even if he had wanted to. But right now, the feeling of desolate abandonment was far too familiar. She had loved Peter Stone since she was nineteen years old. He was an inextricable fixture in her heart, a presence that made up part of her sense of who she was. In the years since they’d found one another, that day so long ago in the lobby at District 21, they had rarely been more than a few miles apart. They had even moved across the country together. Being so far apart now, even though they’d be in touch, still felt way too damn much like breaking up again. 

She had prayed hard for Peter to find a way out of the hell he was in. She hadn’t imagined that it would come at this price.

Laura stood outside the station and called Olivia, asking for permission not to return to work for the day unless there was an emergency. Liv readily agreed and, to her great credit, asked no questions. Laura suspected Olivia had already learned that Peter was leaving town.

Then Laura called her A.A. sponsor, and asked her to join her at a meeting. This hurt. And it was going to hurt for a long time.

******

Barba was shocked to look up and see Peter Stone, of all people, standing in front of his desk. 

“I hope you’re not here to thank me,” he said. He really didn’t want to have to deal with Stone, now on his way back to Chicago, making some maudlin speech about how Barba had saved his ass.

“I’m not,” Stone said bluntly. 

“Good. Then what is it?”

“I’m leaving New York.”

“I heard. Congratulations on your new position.”

“You know why I’m here,” Peter said.

“Yes,” Rafael acknowledged.

“She loves you, and that makes you the luckiest son of a bitch alive. If you let her get away, you’re also the stupidest.” 

Rafael didn’t know what to say to that. 

When Barba didn’t respond, Peter said the rest of what he’d come to say. “Take care of her. Don’t hurt her again. Because I _will_ be there to comfort her.”

Peter turned and walked out of Rafael’s office without another word.

Rafael took a long drink of coffee as he considered the conversation. He realized, somewhat beside the point, that this was the first conversation he’d had with Stone when he was sober. Being introduced and shaking hands didn’t constitute a conversation. 

Rafael was intrigued by the idea that the guy had made a point to approach him. Stone had to be grossly ashamed of his behavior. Yet he’d been willing to face Rafael anyway, just to tell him not to let Laura get away. What the hell? Stone had as much as said he was still in love with her. He knew that he had a golden opportunity to try to get her back, due entirely to Rafael’s idiocy. But he had come here to tell Rafael to fight for her. What kind of a man does something like that?

The only answer Rafael could come up with was: a man who knows the woman he loves is in love with someone else. A man who loves that woman enough to be willing to put her happiness above his own. That gave Rafael a great deal to think about.

******

Peter sat in his now-empty office and thought for a long time, simply staring blankly at whatever was on his computer screen. He paid no attention to what it was. He wasn’t really looking at it. He had told Laura most of his reasons for returning to Chicago. But not all. One of the main reasons was something that, in fairness, he _couldn’t_ tell her. 

It had hurt enough watching her fall in love with another man. At first, even though they had agreed they could no longer be together, Peter had at least been able to console himself with the knowledge that he’d been the love of Laura’s life, just as she was his. But that wasn’t true anymore. Laura - his Sunshine - was seriously, completely in love with someone else, and that man was just as in love with her. He could handle that. He _would_ handle that, because the alternative was never to see her again. But he couldn’t watch it. Laura would always be the love of his life. She was supposed to have been his wife, and he still wanted that. Maybe being eight hundred miles away would help him come to grips with the fact that it wasn’t going to happen.

He didn’t have to say what he had, to push Laura and Rafael together. They’d have found their way back to each other anyway. But something in him just wanted to get that inevitable pain over with. Maybe, once he’d gotten his shit together, he would meet a woman he could be happy with. Maybe, if he had the rarest of luck, he would even meet a woman he could love the way he loved Laura. But he doubted it. 

Peter sighed heavily as he blinked back tears. It was a hideous irony that something had happened to give Peter and Laura a new perspective on the way their romance had ended, something which could have given them a path back to each other, only now that it was too late.


	45. The One You've Been Waiting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The SVU team attends a gala where Olivia Benson is receiving an award. Rafael Barba and OC Laura Parker attend, each with a date. Sparks fly at last.

The squad room was buzzing with the news that Olivia Benson had been chosen to receive the very prestigious SHE ROSE Advocate of the Year award. The women’s rights organization presenting the award was founded by three New York Congresswomen who had each risen above a history of some sort of abuse. The name SHE ROSE was an acronym, but the group had achieved so much that no one paid much attention to what the letters stood for anymore. The award was to be presented at a gala which would be attended by all sorts of celebrities and dignitaries. Because the gala was also a fundraiser for SHE ROSE, Chief Dodds had arranged for NYPD to sponsor a table and instructed all the members of Olivia’s squad at SVU to attend, and to bring a date. They each took that news in their own way. 

Surprisingly, Fin was excited. Not because he was necessarily a tuxedos and cocktails kind of guy, but because he had been seeing a woman recently whom he thought would be impressed by attending an event like that with him. Amanda rolled her eyes, complaining confidentially to Laura that her daughters had her too tired in the evenings to think dressing up and going out would be fun. Still, she had her eye on a Sergeant in Computer Crimes and thought this might be a good opportunity to explore that connection. Carisi had an existential meltdown about the whole idea of having a date for the event. Olivia, of course, would be attending with Captain Tucker. He kept trying to get the squad to call him Ed when they weren’t on duty, but that was never going to happen, probably not even if he ever left the Rat Squad. Not that they didn’t like him, but he was IAB, and that was that. Captain Tucker he remained.

And then there were Laura and Rafael. Laura profoundly wished the event wasn’t happening, or that she didn’t have to go, or that there was no such thing as a plus-one. Because being required to get a date for this fucking fancy-ass gala put her squarely in high school again, trying to figure out if her crush would ask her to Homecoming, or whether she should ask him, or whether she should just set fire to the school to avoid the whole mess. She would kill to attend the gala with Rafael. But would that happen? Did he want it to?

Rafael was simply nauseated. At first, he’d been happy to think there was a chance Laura might ask him to go with her, even if just as friends, as he had asked her to attend the Bar Association awards dinner almost a year before. That had ended very well. He liked the idea that, this time, he would be able to simply sit back and wait to see whether she invited him. Until Olivia made a point of asking him to attend the damn thing to see her get her award. Now he had to figure out how to navigate the Escher-like landscape of his relationship with Laura, whatever it was, and decide whether he should ask her. 

*******

Carisi was sitting on one side of the table in the break room, with Amanda next to him. Both were looking expectantly at Laura, who was on the other side facing them.

“So, I’ve been seeing someone, and…” Carisi began.

Laura smiled. Not only because Sonny was as wonderful as he was ridiculously attractive and she wanted him to have a love life, but also because of his adorable discomfort discussing it.

“The thing is, that’s who I’m bringing to the gala. And, um, he’s a guy.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Laura said, nodding. 

There was an odd, expectant pause, while Laura waited for Sonny to tell her what the problem was. After a few silent seconds, Amanda burst out laughing.

“I told you, Carisi! You dumb shit! You’re the only one who feels like you have to make a big coming-out speech.”

“Oh, shit!” Laura cried. “Was that… were you coming out to me? I’m such a moron! Sorry, um… no one ever came out to me before. What should I say?”

“Say ‘isn’t that interesting’ and then ask about his boyfriend. Because the guy is a stone fox,” Amanda offered.

“So you knew.”

“Of course I knew. Carisi knew I’d be all over it.”

“Wait – are you bi, too?” Laura knew she was botching this terribly. 

“Me, no. I’m just a slut,” Amanda laughed. 

Laura laughed, too, and reached a hand out to cover Carisi’s. “Sonny, thank you. Thanks for trusting me. Tell me the most supportive thing I can say, and I’ll say it. Cuz I’m there.”

The smile on Carisi’s face made his eyes crinkle in that way that always made Laura feel like he was her little brother. She didn’t know who was older, but it didn’t matter. He’d definitely be the little brother, no matter how old he was.

“Say you’ll come to the gala and be totally nonchalant about it. That’s all I really need.”

Rafael walked in at that moment. Apparently, he was already aware that Carisi was bi, because neither Carisi nor Amanda made any move to stop the conversation.

“Well, can I meet him first?” Laura asked. “I mean, if he’s as good looking as Amanda says, I definitely want to meet him, but also then at the gala, it won’t be so much like a blind date.”

“Oh, sure. That’s a good idea,” Carisi agreed, his eyes brightening now that he’d come out to Laura and enlisted her help in coming out to the rest of the world.

“How about tonight? Come over for dinner. Carisi will cook, and the girls would love to see you.”

Carisi looked at Amanda in mock irritation. “Was anyone going to _ask_ if Carisi will cook?” The women ignored him.

“I want to see them! I’d love it.”

The three detectives had finished their lunches, and began to get up from the table as Rafael pretended to study the snacks in the vending machines. They said hello to him, but his response was subdued. He seemed as though he had something on his mind.

Laura took a deep breath. _Now or never_, she thought. _ Just suck it up and ask him to go to the gala with you._ When Carisi and Rollins left the room, she stayed behind, getting progressively more nervous as she leaned with her back to the vending machine next to the one Rafael was staring fixedly into. “Um… Rafael, I wanted to ask you…”

He continued to stare into the vending machine, as though mesmerized. She faltered.

“I wondered if you would… um would you…”

“Yes?”

He turned to her, looking at her strangely, almost scowling at her. Immediately upon him turning to her, Laura was aware of those eyes, that smolder, how desperately she wanted him to say yes… and completely lost her nerve. 

“Would you say that the Angelli case is first-degree rape, or second?”

_Fuck._

“I’ll charge first, he’ll get convicted of second. Why do you ask?”

“I just… wondered. Just curious. See you later.” Laura hustled into the squad room, her face burning, feeling like a complete fool. _Parker, you hopeless loser. You got no game. None._

Rafael watched her go. _So. That’s the end of that, I guess. So much for “she’s in love with you.” Women who are in love don’t accept blind dates. Especially to events that will be attended by the one they’re supposed to love._

The worst part was, now he’d have to find himself a fucking date for the gala.

By Monday of the next week, the week of the gala, Rafael still had not asked Laura to go with him, and she had tried three more times to ask him. Twice she had been unable to find the courage to actually form the question, once she completely freaked out and claimed she had forgotten something as an excuse to rush out of the room. She cursed herself roundly and told herself she was going to die alone in a cave after she got kicked out of the human race for being such a fuckwit. She tried desperately to think of a way to force herself to ask him, but she also began to ask herself why he hadn’t asked her. The gala was on Friday. It had seemed like he might ask her, things seemed to be heading toward Rafael at least wanting to be friends again, but… 

And then she found out.

Rafael and Olivia had been meeting in Benson’s office for the past hour. Even through the closed door, their raised voices could still be heard. Aside from a few amused smirks when one of them would yell particularly loudly at the other, the squad paid little attention. Rafael and Olivia argued all the time. It was just part of their working relationship.

When they finished their bout, Olivia opened her office door to walk out with him. As they walked, Olivia said to Rafael in a voice she thought couldn’t be overheard, “What’s this I hear about you taking Molly Strandwood to the gala?”

Where Rafael was concerned, Laura had the radar and surveillance capabilities of an Aegis cruiser. She heard every word Olivia said. And she heard Rafael reply sharply, defensively, “That’s right.”

She didn’t hear what Olivia said back, because they turned the corner toward the elevators. 

Laura had once been kicked full-force in the solar plexus when sparring with another student during a krav maga class. The sharp, throbbing, radiating pain was so excruciating she felt like she could sense each separate internal organ. Long, terrified moments later, when she could actually begin to hiccup small breaths again, the pain was joined by a restlessness and agitation she had never experienced before or since. Her heart pounded and she could only sit, sweating, as she fought the nausea.

Hearing Rafael confirm that he had asked someone else to the gala felt exactly like that kick. Maybe a little worse. She tried to appear normal as she made her way to the bathroom, where she could be alone to begin to absorb the blow and wait to be able to breathe again. 

*********

The gala was held in a gorgeous hotel Laura had never been to before. She had only seen photo spreads in high-end magazines showing its sumptuous rooms and extravagant public spaces. As she walked into the ballroom with her date, she looked around at the opulence of the massive space, the glamorous people in spectacular gowns and perfectly-tailored designer tuxedos, and the sparkling crystal on the tables. She could smell the huge floral centerpieces, each in a high silver vase that held it above the level of the diners’ eyes so that they could converse without it in the way. The lighting was a bit subdued, and there was a live band playing swing-era music. The dais was already peopled with several celebrities she recognized, as well as a number of well-known politicians. The whole thing was like a dream.

All she wanted was to wake up. She did not want to be here. She did not want to spend an entire evening having to look at Rafael in his tux, dark and sexy and elegant, sitting with another woman. She had spent long, weary hours shopping for the perfect dress, all the while berating herself for seeking a gown to please a man who didn’t want her. But she was determined that, if she was going to have to endure the gala watching Rafael with someone else, she would try to find a dress that made her feel like a little less of a jilted hag.

She had at least succeeded there. The entire bodice of her soft, champagne-colored gown was beaded with pearls, intermixed with tiny crystals that reflected the lights and gave the bodice shimmery, sparkly life. The beading ended in an asymmetrical waistline that gave way to a long fall of champagne-colored satin that flowed when she moved and puddled just a bit on the floor. She had particularly chosen the gown because it had two audacious features. The bodice was a low-cut V, with the beading becoming less dense until it softly gave way to an expanse of exposed décolletage that Amanda had had to talk Laura into daring to show. The skirt had a slit that rose to mid-thigh and showed a shocking amount of her left leg when she walked. Amanda had had to talk her into braving that, too. 

Her date was a very nice guy from her blue-belt class at the gym. Glen Harrison was a huge man, with unruly black hair, a permanent five-O’clock shadow, and an abundance of black hair covering his arms, legs, and chest. He worked as a longshoreman and his body showed the hard manual labor he did every day. Glen’s dark eyes were the best feature in his handsome face, glinting from under long lashes. He looked good in his rented tuxedo, although perhaps a little like a fish out of water.

Glen had initially thought Laura’s presence in the krav maga class was some kind of joke. He made a number of comments to that effect, wondering aloud what that woman was doing in a serious martial arts class with men twice her size. Their instructor, Avi ben Yaakov, demanded that his students behave toward everyone with respect, in class or out, and he had not been pleased. So he had sat the class down, as he did when he was going to have students demonstrate something, and let Laura loose on Glen. Glen soon learned that she had earned her place in the class. He and she had been friends ever since. 

Glen may have misjudged her based on his initial impression, but he now respected that she could give as good as she got with anyone in the class, including him. There was nothing romantic about their relationship – he liked his women a whole lot heftier than Laura was - but he liked her well enough, and had been excited when she asked him to come to this gala with her. He thought spending a glamorous evening at a table full of cops sounded like fun. 

Laura found their table and noted that most of the group was already there and had staked out their seats. She couldn’t help but see Rafael first, looking even better in his tux than she’d been afraid he would. She wasn’t sure which woman standing in the group talking with him was his date. She didn’t want to know.

The first thing she and Glen did was choose seats for themselves, then she led Glen to the other side of the large table, where Carisi and his date, Dean, were chatting with a group of people. She’d promised to lend them support with her presence, and it wasn’t hard to spot them. Dean was probably the best-looking guy in the room. When Laura had met him earlier in the week, she had been surprised that Sonny hadn’t mentioned he was black, and still more surprised that he was even better looking than Amanda had indicated. It was no shock to Laura when she learned that Dean was a sometime model, but what was more impressive was that he modeled to put himself through the engineering program at Fordham. Laura fully approved of him as worthy to date Sonny, and she was a tough critic when it came to people who dated her friends. 

She exchanged hugs with Sonny and Dean, and introduced them to Glen. Amanda and her date, the Sergeant from Computer Crimes, joined them and they enjoyed a pleasant half-hour mingling with others they knew, teasing Olivia about being a celebrity, and generally reveling in the fairy-tale atmosphere of the gala. 

Eventually, the lights dimmed and the master of ceremonies, a talk show host who Laura thought might be a little edgy for this particular crowd, announced that it was time for the guests to take their seats. Laura couldn’t help but notice that Rafael hadn’t come to join the group she’d been talking with, but had stayed on the other side of the table, mingling with other people. She wondered whether he was avoiding her, but also questioned whether she even rated that much of his attention anymore. The thought made her angry. What the hell had she been thinking, having her hair done professionally for this stupid costume party, to impress a man who had apparently entirely deleted her from his thoughts? Being irritated by it was easier than admitting how it really felt to be irrelevant to the man she loved. She had an entire evening to get through.

She and Glen moved around the table to their seats and he pulled her chair out for her, a surprisingly gentlemanly move that made her smile at him. She then turned to step around the chair and came face to face with Rafael.

Whose seat was right next to hers.

They stood for a second, too stunned initially to disguise the horrified looks on their faces, before each artlessly, transparently, struggled to cover their discomfort. Rafael spoke first. 

“Are you going to introduce me to your date?”

When Laura stiffly, formally introduced them, Rafael greeted Glen so heartily and cheerfully that Laura knew at once he was mocking her. _Oh, this was gonna be a long night._

He then introduced Laura to the woman standing next to him. Fortunately, Laura was already struggling with the nightmare of unexpectedly coming face to face with Rafael and realizing she was going to have to sit next to him all evening, so she was actively working to control her expression. Because the woman was a trainwreck. 

Her hair was huge. Massive. A tower of lacquer and abuse. Her tight, royal blue dress squeezed her breasts to an extent that appeared to Laura to be both painful and ill-advised, compressing them so that the large majority of them spilled over the neckline. Her makeup had probably taken a long time to put on, not least because there was so much of it. She had eyeliner drawn out in curlicues at least an inch from the edges of her eyes, and her glitter lipstick accentuated lips that had clearly been injected with something. She was… a lot. 

Laura immediately and intentionally forgot the woman’s name as she said hello to her, followed by raising an amused eyebrow at Rafael, who tried to maintain a pleased expression. Normally, he had a perfect poker face. Not tonight. He was sure she could see the wince he was trying to hide.

The group at the NYPD’s table sat and began to settle in for the event. Glen pushed Laura’s chair in for her, while Rafael did the same for his date. 

As Rafael took his seat, he reached for his napkin, which was on the side of his place setting nearest Laura. He muttered out of the side of his mouth, “Does the ape house have a curfew? Did you bring some emergency bananas, just in case he gets restless?”

“Says the guy who brought Snooki. How are things on the Jersey Shore?” She matched his annoyed, scornful tone and tried to be discreet as they growled to one another in Spanish.

“I’m surprised,” he observed quietly. “Gorillas are an evolutionary step down from troglodytes, and we know you don’t like them. I wouldn’t have thought they’d be your type.”

“Yeah, well, you’re kind of known for making wrong assumptions about me,” Laura snarled, turning pointedly away from Rafael to move closer to Glen. 

The program began and dinner was served. Neither Laura nor Rafael could have said what it was. They were too intensely aware of one another, too keyed up, and too busy trying to act as though none of that was true. At least the program and dinner gave them something to pretend to focus on, and something to do with their hands.

At one point, Laura had to ask Rafael to hand her a dish of butter, which was served in pats sculpted into medallions with the hotel’s initial on them. She took advantage of the opportunity to quietly address him while appearing entirely focused on the butter medallions.

“You know, I might have misjudged Snooki. Given your penchant for getting into trouble, it was actually pretty brilliant of her to preemptively wear a compression bandage on a date with you.”

“I don’t want to judge,” he responded, muttering softly in a falsely nonchalant tone, “but I don’t think you’re supposed to dress gorillas up and feed them. You’re just supposed to watch them from behind a bush while they forage for leaves and grubs.”

Laura huffed quietly, concentrating on buttering a roll to conceal the fact that they were having this clandestine conversation. “Just because we’re sitting next to each other, doesn’t mean you have to talk to me.”

“You talked to me,” he retorted.

“My mistake. I should be talking to Glen.”

“He talks? He doesn’t just make signs with his hands?” 

That one was hard for Laura not to laugh at, but she was determined not to give him the satisfaction. Napkin in front of her mouth, she whispered, “Turn around and pay attention to Snooki. She seems like a girl who needs that. You don’t want her exposing the small percentage of her boobs that aren’t already popping out of that dress.”

“Now who’s making wrong assumptions?” 

There was a break in the program while dessert was served, during which those sitting around the table began to chat with the people nearest them. It was then that Laura heard Rafael’s date’s voice. It was a honk. There was no other word for it. A loud, nasal honk with a grating local accent Laura couldn’t identify.

The woman began to tell a rambling story about someone falling down, dropping a bunch of packages and spilling her purse. It was hard to follow, because every other sentence, she stopped to ask, “You know what I mean?” 

When it was over, Laura was still waiting for the punchline as the woman looked expectantly at those around her. 

“I’m sure it was the talk of the salon,” Laura said, when she realized the woman’s story was complete. She immediately wished she hadn’t said it out loud. She shouldn’t be mean to Snooki; the woman hadn’t done anything to her. This was all Rafael’s fault.

“How’d you know I work at a hair salon?” The woman asked, astounded.

“Lucky guess,” Laura smiled sweetly, holding back a startled laugh and sure she could feel Rafael scowling at her.

“Wow you must be a great detective. Wasn’t that smart, Ra-fay-ell?” The woman poked his arm with a long, red fingernail. 

“Deduction like that is what separates us from the apes.” He said. “Some of us, anyway,” he added _sotto voce_, in Spanish. 

Glen, who had enjoyed Snooki’s story, then began to tell about a time when he had struggled mightily to carry a full tray of drinks to his friends’ table at a club.

“Yeah, that’s a tough one,” Rafael said sympathetically. “Thank God for opposable thumbs, huh?”

Laura sighed audibly.

Snooki then announced that she was going to the restroom. Laura thought that was a good idea, actually, so she said, “I’ll go with you.” She couldn’t resist whispering in Spanish so only Rafael could hear, “and show you how indoor plumbing works.”

Laura returned to the table without Snooki, and Rafael looked inquiringly at her. 

“She said she needed to freshen up,” Laura shrugged, then moved down the table to talk briefly with Carisi and Dean. 

Rafael couldn’t take his eyes off her. He was bewitched by the way her dress flowed around her, giving him the occasional flash of most of her leg, and that sparkly, teasing bodice gave him enough of a glimpse to remind him what she looked like with her chest completely bare. He groaned inwardly. He had to fight to stop himself from going to her. It was clear that she was no more romantically interested in her date than he was in Snoo- Molly, he reminded himself. This situation was ridiculous.

As he was thinking these thoughts, filling his eyes with Laura and wishing he could touch her softly curled hair, she turned back toward him to return to her seat, catching him mid-gawk. At that moment, Snooki returned to the table. He actually flinched. She had refreshed her makeup and it was, if possible, more grotesque than it had been previously. Laura gave Rafael a significant look as she sat down next to him.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

At that moment, Glen knocked over his water glass, causing a commotion and making quite a mess.

“Uh-oh” Rafael muttered. “Now he’s gonna have to make the hand sign for another one.”

Laura laughed. She couldn’t help it. Rafael’s deadpan delivery, coupled with the excitement she felt at having caught him looking at her appreciatively, and the overall absurdity of the whole evening, bubbled up from within her before she could stop it. She tried to cover her laugh with a cough, but Rafael wasn’t fooled.

The lights dimmed and the program began again. 

“Did you just laugh?” Rafael whispered, leaning just slightly toward her so she could hear.

“Not intentionally. I’m mad at you.”

Surprised, he turned to her. “What did I do?”

She stayed facing forward, still trying to hide the fact that they were whispering together. Could he really not know? Was that even possible? She decided, right then, with him sitting inches from her looking so good it hurt, to put her cards on the table. “I thought we were friends again. _I’m_ supposed to be your go-to for these kinds of events.”

“You are!”

“Then what’s with Snooki?”

“You were bringing the Gorilla.”

“Not until after I heard about Snooki.”

“No, I heard you say – Laura. Enough. Let’s get something straight. I want you to be my go-to for every event. Ever.” 

There was a loud burst of laughter and applause at something someone on the dais had said, making it impossible for Laura to respond. The other thing that rendered her mute was that she couldn’t believe he had said what she had heard. Could he really have said… She was instantly electrified. Soon enough, the cheering began to subside.

“What did you say?” Her loud whisper was insistent, demanding.

“I love you.”

Laura froze, her body alive with electric shocks shooting everywhere. All she could do was sit rigid, staring ahead and blinking back tears, swallowing the joyful shriek trying to escape from her overflowing heart. She couldn’t look at Rafael. She knew that, if she did, she would burst into tears and throw herself on him in front of her date and his. Not to mention a ballroom full of womens’ rights advocates, the press, a host of celebrities, and the Lieutenant Governor of the State of New York. There was absolutely nothing she could do about the radiant smile beaming from her flushed face. She took a long, unnecessary drink of water to try to gain control of it, but she suspected it might be permanent.

At that moment, whoever was speaking said something that received a standing ovation. The loud applause and opportunity to stand up gave Laura and Rafael a chance to stand shoulder to shoulder and talk without being obvious about it. Although the rest of the squad were starting to be aware that something was going on between them. 

“Did you say-“

“You heard me. Now dump the Gorilla and let’s get out of here.”

“Liv hasn’t accepted her award yet.”

“_Mierda._[1] That’s right. Fake a heart attack. She’ll forgive you.”

“You fake a heart attack. She likes you better.”

For the first time that night, they turned and smiled at one another. As the ovation ended and the crowd returned to their seats, Rafael and Laura tried to be inconspicuous as they moved their chairs toward each other so that their legs were touching. Hidden by the long tablecloth, Rafael took Laura’s hand under the table. 

Fin noticed their closeness and elbowed Carisi, who elbowed Amanda, who elbowed Liv. Suddenly, what was obviously developing between their friends was much more interesting than what was going on in the front of the room.

“This is not happening,” Rafael chuckled under his breath.

“It’s happening, Harvard. We’re stuck.”

Rafael sighed a few Spanish swear words, although he was grinning broadly.

“Say it again,” Laura whispered, squeezing his hand.

“I love you.”

She felt a rush of heat that added a flush to her face. Combined with her mostly unsuccessful attempts to hide her smile, Laura was practically screaming with joy for those who understood what they were seeing. 

“I love you, too,” she murmured.

“Tell me you want to be with me.”

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

Rafael was glad for the long tablecloth that hid his reaction to that, but his face clearly showed his elation.

Laura began to giggle. Rafael loved her! He had said it, and he was even now holding her hand and beginning to rub her fingers with his thumb. The euphoria she felt had to escape somehow, she simply couldn’t contain it. She didn’t want to. She wanted to run up to the dais, grab the microphone from whoever that long-winded guy was, and scream it to the crowd. She wanted to turn to Rafael and kiss him stupid. She wanted to make him tell her he loved her until he was hoarse.

Instead, she had to behave, to sit quietly and somehow get through whatever was left of the program before Olivia received her award. It was a ludicrous situation, and there was nothing she could do about it. Which caused her to giggle uncontrollably. She tried to cover it by holding her napkin to her mouth, but it didn’t work very well.

Rafael quickly caught the giggles, too, and for the same reasons. Through the entire rest of the speech they weren’t listening to, they fought to control their laughter and keep from drawing attention to themselves. Although the rest of the team were trained observers and knew all that had happened between Rafael and Laura, even Snooki and Glen could now tell that something was going on. Not knowing the situation, however, they simply thought that their dates were quite rudely whispering and joking privately in Spanish. 

At long last, the speech ended and the Master of Ceremonies announced that the President of SHE ROSE would now present Olivia’s award. Rafael and Laura began to pay attention, although they still held hands under the table and Laura was teasingly running her foot up his ankle under his tuxedo pants.

The speech was very well-written and well-delivered. The Congresswoman speaking obviously knew Olivia’s work, and was speaking from her heart rather than simply reading a speech. It was a lovely tribute and there were many pauses for applause. Olivia blushed and fidgeted uncomfortably through the speech until, at last, the Congresswoman introduced her and she made the long walk from their table to the dais. Everyone stood to give Olivia a rousing ovation, celebrating all of her work and sacrifice over a career seeking justice for victims of sexual crimes. It was a very special moment, even as distracted as Rafael and Laura were with their own unfolding joyful drama. 

Once Olivia had accepted her award, and the Master of Ceremonies began to conclude the program, Rafael stood and left the ballroom without a word. Laura and his date, whatever her name was, exchanged glances and shrugged. 

He was gone for a while. He didn’t return until the MC had almost finished thanking everyone on the dais and congratulating Olivia, and he didn’t explain where he’d gone. 

The program finally concluded. The lights came up, the swing band began to play, and most of the crowd stood and began to move about, finally released from the need to sit still and quiet. No one was more relieved than Rafael and Laura.

As they were getting up with the rest of their table, both Rafael’s and Laura’s phones began to ring within seconds of each other. Laura frowned with the beginnings of concern, wondering whether yet another inescapable barrier was going to keep them from finally being able to be alone together. She took her phone out of her evening bag and answered it, stepping a bit away from the rest of the table in an effort to limit the rudeness of taking the call.

“Hello?”

“Laura, it’s Ramón. Rafael’s cousin? I’m supposed to tell you not to say anything. Just act like I’m giving you a serious message and follow Rafael’s lead. So say you understand and then hang up. Have fun, whatever you two are playing at.”

“I understand,” she replied, working very hard not to smile, and succeeding only in looking mildly squeamish. She ended the call and looked up at Rafael.

He immediately put a hand out and pulled his date over to stand next to hers. He handed Glen a small piece of paper.

“Molly, Glen, the two of you have something in common. And I’m hoping you’ll accept my offer to go somewhere, have a drink, and talk about it. This is the address of a very nice place called Forlini’s. I’ve called the bartender and he’s going to put anything you want on my tab. Eat. Drink. Bond. It’s easy walking distance from here.”

“Wait… what’s happening… what do we have in common?” Rafael’s date asked in her nasal honk.

“You’re both about to be abandoned by your dates. I’m sorry. But it’s a national emergency. We can’t talk about it. Go. Go to Forlini’s. Have a wonderful time. Goodnight.”

Rafael took Laura by the hand and called out, “Congratulations, Liv, we’ll talk later!”

“Sorry, Glen. I’ll see you in class-” Laura said, barely having enough time to snatch her purse from the table before Rafael began pulling her toward the door. They all but ran out of the ballroom. 

The SVU team, all standing together as the members congratulated Liv, smiled knowingly and clinked their drink glasses. It was about damn time.

[1] Shit.


	46. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, more smut, and nothing but smut. Rafael Barba and OC Laura Parker have finally swept all doubt from between them and spend the evening, well... you know. At last.

Rafael was pulling Laura by the hand, heedless of her high heels, striding as fast as he could toward the hotel elevators as she gleefully tried to keep up, her dress floating behind her. There was quite a crowd waiting expectantly in the area, so his idea of an elevator to themselves was shot. Probably best. If they were alone, she’d be naked by the time they got to the floor where he’d taken a room when he temporarily stepped out of the gala. In the age of security cameras, and given their jobs, that might not be appropriate. But it was a damn good idea.

Their headlong flight from the gala came to an abrupt stop while they had to take their place among those waiting for the next elevator. They stood close together, holding hands and trying to keep themselves from seizing each other in their eagerness. 

“Say it again,” she asked quietly.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“Is this going to be a thing?”

“Oh, hell yes. I’m never getting tired of that.”

Rafael smiled and let go of her hand to put an arm around her. Leaning to put his mouth next to her ear, he whispered, “I love you, Laura. I love you and the second we get to our room I’m going to tear that dress off of you and show you how much.”

Laura felt those words physically as electric butterflies in the lowest part of her abdomen and an insistent, wet heat between her legs. She turned her head to smile up at him. “I love you, too, and I’m going to help.”

It never even crossed Laura’s mind to wonder at the fact that they had a room. All she knew was that if anyone on the elevator pushed the button for a lower floor, she was going to scream. Of course, several people did. Rafael had booked a room on the twentieth floor, which meant that there were innumerable, interminable stops between the lobby and privacy to do all the things that were screaming through their hormone-addled minds at the moment. As the car rose, Rafael softly, tenderly ran his hand up and down her back, teasing her by sliding the tips of his fingers under the beaded fabric at the back of Laura’s neck. Her body responded almost forcibly, and she began to tremble with desire. Rafael was trying desperately to cool his own excitement, a little concerned about even being able to walk down the hall to their room, as hard as he was. He tried imagining John Buchanan naked, which helped.

After enduring what felt like hours of waiting, standing with strangers making mundane small talk and trying to will the ride to be over, Rafael and Laura finally reached the twentieth floor. They held hands, practically running down the long, lushly-decorated hall, until they reached their room. Rafael swiped the key too fast, earning a blinking red light and impatient grunts from both of them. He concentrated, focusing and willing himself to be patient, and unlocked the door on the second try.

The door wasn’t closed yet before they were in each other’s arms, kissing in the total darkness of the room with an intensity and abandon matched only by their frenzied efforts to remove one another’s clothes. They tried to talk, touch, hug, kiss, and undress each other all at the same time, all the while laughing with joy. It was a delirious effort that was doomed to end in either failure or destruction of expensive clothing. Rafael finally took Laura’s shoulders in his hands, and separated them by a step. They were panting and already disheveled. 

“OK, wait. We need a plan. Coordination. We’ll get there faster if we focus.”

“I’m very focused,” she panted with a mischievous grin he couldn’t see in the dark, but could hear in her voice.

“Turn around.”

Rafael reached out and flicked a lightswitch as she did as he said, turning on a lamp further inside the room. Now that he could see, he expended huge effort to control his shaking hands as he slowly and gently released the clasp of her dress and unzipped it. He had noticed hours before that the zipper went all the way down to the curve of her rounded derriere, which meant that when she turned back around, the dress simply fell to the floor, pulled down by the weight of the beaded bodice. 

Seeing her standing before him, dressed in only her delicate, lacy panties and high heels, he could easily have lost control right then. The motion of her chest as she gasped for air only made her nude, shapely breasts more enticing. He wanted desperately to get his tongue on her nipples, darkly pink and erect, but when she reached hungrily for him, he once again took her arms and stopped her. “A plan. Focus,” he gasped in a low growl. 

He carefully removed his tuxedo jacket and bow tie, and unbuttoned several buttons of his shirt, not letting her help him when she tried to. Although she was smiling, the noise she made and the look in her eyes signaled the tinge of frustration in her eager excitement. _This was going to be fun._ He hung the jacket up carefully and looped the tie over the hanger. 

He turned back to her then, putting an arm around her bare waist, and cupping her face with his other hand. Making love was crucial, and soon, but there were important things to say first. “I love you, and I’m sorry,” he said, his green eyes intense as he looked down into hers. “Please, forgive me.”

Laura caught the seriousness of this moment, and worked to calm her libido enough to respond. “Of course I forgive you, if you even need forgiveness. And I apologize to you, too. I love you, Rafael. I’m sorry for everything…”

“I forgive you, too, if there’s even anything to forgive” he said, crushing his lips to hers. His hard, insistent kisses were exactly what she needed – the beginning of what she needed, anyway – and she returned them eagerly. Wearing almost nothing while he was still almost fully dressed, she gasped as his hands began to stroke her back, cup her ass and press her to him. How long they stood there, ecstatically devouring one another’s mouths and trying to stroke all of each other’s bodies at once, they couldn’t have said. He let her untuck his shirt from his pants, but stopped her from pulling it off of him. 

Instead, he guided her toward the fluffy king-sized bed, covered with a duvet that looked and felt like silk, arrayed with too many pillows to count when they were so distracted. He slid off his shoes and hastily removed his socks while she happily half-crawled, half-bounced to the middle of the bed. He stopped her before she kicked off her heels. 

“Leave those on,” he murmured in a low, throaty rasp that caused her to feel yet another flood of wetness in her already-soaked panties. 

He put one knee onto the bed, then slinked across it to where she was sitting, his moves slow and deliberate. When he reached her, he took her, ever so slowly, into his arms. She slid her arms around his neck and he laid them down, side by side holding one another and looking into each other’s eyes.

Although she was raging with desire, Laura was also beginning to feel overwhelmed with emotion. This was real. They were here. He loved her. Her feelings overflowed in the form of a tear that slid from her eye, slowing as it reached the upturn of her nose.

“Rafael…”

Rafael wiped the tear away with his finger.

“Please don’t cry, _mi amor_.[1]”

“I’m not crying, it’s just… You love me. I’m too happy. I don’t know how to be this happy!”

His joy at hearing that radiated in his smile. “Get used to it. I intend to make you happy all day, every day.”

Another tear escaped. “I love you. I love you more than I know how to tell you.” 

His own emotions overcame him and he pulled her to him, stroking her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I love you, too…” he murmured past the lump in his throat.

After a few moments, she pushed against his chest so she could look up at him. “If you love me, let me be with you. Please. I can’t stand being without you.”

“I know, _cariño_.[2] I’m never letting you go again. I’m an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m an idiot?” He gave her a lopsided grin, but he could see that she was serious. “I love you,” he told her, kissing her lightly, then pulling back to look into her eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Laura smiled, pulling him back to kiss him again, this time with more intention.

“I missed you every second we were apart. I don’t know how you did it, but you made it so my life doesn’t even work without you anymore.” He spoke through and between their kisses, moving to brush kisses across her cheeks and jaw as he spoke. He began to glide a hand across her back, to her flank, slowing as he approached her breast. “And I want us to be together. We belong together.”

“Harvard?”

“Hmmmmmm?”

“I could listen to you forever saying you love me, and I mean this in the best possible way - please shut up and fuck me.”

“Not exactly the plan.”

She stiffened. “Wait, _what_?” 

“Well, it’s _in_ the plan,” he said, beginning to kiss down onto her neck. “But we’re on step one. Maybe two. Fucking you, that’s somewhere around step twenty-seven.” 

“No. Tell me we’re not waiting again. Please, I can’t… I need you…”

“Trust me. You’re going to like the plan. You’re especially gonna like steps six through twelve.”

“Which are?”

“You’ll see.” He now had his lips on the sensitive place just behind and below her ear. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck entirely to his ministrations. He finally slid his hand up to cup her breast. 

“Fuck…” she gasped.

“Step twenty-seven.”

He gently eased her onto her back, raising himself above her so that he could continue his torturously slow, indiscriminate pattern of exquisite kisses that, despite their seeming randomness, always tended downward. Propped up on one elbow, he could use the other hand to touch her wherever he wanted. She kept trying to put an arm around him, and reaching to touch him, but each time she moved her body, he would gently push her back to the bed. 

“You, _mi amor_, are far too used to having your own way with me. That’s why there’s a plan. You need… structure.” As he murmured that into her skin, he used his hand to lay both her arms over her head, palms up. “Stay there,” he rumbled, taking a nipple, at long last, into his mouth. She whimpered.

Although his intention was to make their intimate reunion last as long as possible, he was having his own troubles not rushing ahead. Seeing her lying there, entirely his, wearing nothing but tiny, lacy panties and the sexy heels he’d promised himself at the gala he’d make her leave on, moving her hips already in her longing for his touch, he was glad he’d left some clothes on. If he’d been naked, he wouldn’t have had the strength not to tear her panties off and take her right then. 

He pressed his open mouth to her nipple, running his tongue around and across the pebbly surface and teasing the nub. The sounds she made were erotic as hell. As he licked his way to her other breast, she reached down and ran her fingers through his hair, pressing him to her. He reached up and stroked her arm, guiding it softly back into place over her head.

“Please, Rafael… Let me…”

“Shhhhhh. You’ll get your turn.” He lifted his head and looked at her face, eyelids heavy and pupils fully dilated, flushed, her mouth open with her gasps. He shook his head with mock disapproval, giving her that smoldering smirk of his. “You really do need structure.”

She was too drunk with arousal to respond to his tender taunt. 

It took him forever to kiss his way down her ribs, across her stomach, to her lower abdomen. He stopped along the way to suck a purple mark on the side of her waist, in the tender spot just above her hip. 

“You belong to me,” he growled. She exhaled a Spanish swear word in breathy half-whisper.

He stroked his hand down the outside of her thigh. He noticed that she had, consciously or not, slid her legs apart several inches. He smiled against her skin, seeing that evidence of her desire for him. He kissed down onto the delicate fabric of her panties, noting the way she lifted her hips toward him and wondering whether she even knew she was doing it. She was moaning, occasionally softly whispering his name as her breath came in deep lungfuls through her open mouth. 

He wanted to make her wait a bit longer, but couldn’t restrain himself from moving to kiss her silky pubic hair through the barely-there lace of her panties. She groaned and moved her thighs another inch apart, and was rewarded by Rafael shifting his body to kiss lower, gently spreading her legs further so that he could mouth her through the saturated lace. 

“Rafael, please…” 

_Structure be damned_. He sat up and roughly pulled the panties down her legs, throwing them wherever they landed as he settled himself between her thighs, noting with a groan that her feet were planted against the mattress in those heels. They were now the only thing she had on, while he still wore both his shirt and his pants. 

She cried out as he nuzzled her, at first only flicking out his tongue to give her the tiniest licks as he used his mouth to separate her wet folds. She separated her legs even further, and he decided he’d tortured her – and himself – enough. He used his whole mouth, lips and full tongue, to thoroughly worship her female center, not leaving out the puckered rosebud behind. She was now mewling with desire, entirely unaware of anything but what he was doing to her. When he began a light, slow, circular tonguing of her clit, her back arched completely off the bed as she called his name. It was enough. He could teach her more about patience and structure another time. He buried two fingers in her and began an irresistible stroke, feeling her undulate her hips into him. 

Her cries became breathless and rhythmic, and he coated his pinky in her wetness. Just as she began to shout wordlessly and her body began to shudder, he slipped his pinky into her other opening and felt her body clench around his fingers. He stayed with her, listening to the music of her voiced ecstasy, until he had extracted the last shudder and he felt her ever-so-slight retreat from his tongue as the sensitivity became too much. 

She barely moved as he kissed his way back up to her lips. She thought she might have blacked out for a second during what had been perhaps the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. She was so spent she left her legs splayed where they were, arms above her head, eyes closed as she began slowly to catch her breath.

“I told you you were gonna like steps six through twelve.”

She moaned in glorious contentment.

“Step thirteen is you take a breather,” he murmured, sliding his arm beneath her and cuddling her now slack, loose-jointed body to him. “You have a little more active role in the next few steps.”

“Yessssssssss. Tell me,” she smiled into his chest, slowly and weakly draping an arm across his hip. 

“That’s need-to-know. I’ll tell you when we get there.” 

She giggled and sighed deeply. They took a protracted break, cuddling and speaking quiet endearments to one another. More than once, Laura asked Rafael to tell her again that he loved her. Sometimes she would ask him to say it in both Spanish and English. He indulged her every time. 

Eventually, Laura recovered enough to pull away enough to look into his beloved face, her features glowing from within with the love and happiness she felt. “Those last few steps? Those were life-changing,” she said, then leaned in to rub his nose playfully with hers. “And now it’s my turn. Can we do step fourteen now?” Her grin was somewhere between elfin and wanton. Not an easy feat, but one that produced a wonderful effect on Rafael’s lower parts.

“Of course. Kiss me and tell me you love me.”

Laura consciously thought about him, her deep love for him, and her joy at being here with him as she took his lower lip between hers and tenderly kissed him. “I love you,” she breathed, taking a moment to kiss his upper lip, too.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted up, rolling them over so that he was now leaning over her. “I love you,” he whispered, mid-kiss, taking several minutes to use his tongue to play with hers. When the long kisses ended, he repeated her move and rubbed noses with her again, both of them chuckling happily.

“Was that step fifteen?”

“Uh-huh. Now steps sixteen through twenty-one-“

“I think I can guess sixteen through twenty-one,” she laughed wickedly.

“OK, but one caveat.”

“Yes?”

“Step twenty-two is I say stop and you stop.”

“That’s two steps.”

“Don’t get technical. If you don’t do step twenty-two, you’ll have to wait for step twenty-seven. You with me?” He smiled down at her.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, rolling him back over onto his back. She rolled onto the knee closest to him and lifted herself up, sliding full-length on top of him. “Do I get to be in charge of steps – where are we again?”

“Sixteen through twenty-one.”

“Am I in charge?”

“You are.”

Her devilish laugh made him smile as she braced herself on her arms and began to nuzzle his neck with her nose, getting close enough for him to feel her breath, but never quite touching him with her lips. Very soon, goosebumps began to form on his neck and the hair stood up on his arms.

“Oh, I’m a dead man,” he groaned.

“You deserve it. All these damn clothes…” 

If anything, she took even longer kissing, licking, nipping, and stroking him than he had taken with her. For every shirt button she undid, he endured several minutes of her teasing his skin with light, barely-there kisses, along with her subtle, seemingly incidental but entirely premeditated, movements against his stiff, still-clad cock. By the time she had his shirt all the way opened, he was moaning and moving against her. She sat him up just long enough to pull the shirt off of him, wanting all of his skin exposed. 

She slid off of him as she kissed her way down to his waist, so that she could tease him through his pants with just the tips of her fingers, or just the lightest strokes. When she was sliding kisses across his stomach and reached out to begin to unfasten his belt, he made the mistake of moving to help her. She sat up.

“Oh, you did not just do that,” she said in a stern voice, taking his hands and putting them over his head, palms up. “You realize what this means.”

“No-“ his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again as she smiled triumphantly. “No. What does it mean?”

She shook her head sadly. “It’s for your own good.”

“I’m not the one who needs structure. That’s you. Can we negotiate a plea?”

“You’re lucky. I want your pants off maybe more than you do, so I’m willing to deal.” She looked at him sternly. “But move those hands, and the deal’s off. Your sentence will be something evil.”

He smiled broadly and shook his head, but kept his hands where they were. “Of that, I have absolutely no doubt.”

She was relentless. She never touched his cock once she got his pants unzipped. She pushed them slowly down his legs, kissing every inch of newly exposed flesh. He wanted badly to reach out and stroke her ass, lifted up in the air toward him as she sat on her knees, crouched down to kiss all down his legs, but he could only imagine how long she’d make him wait if he did. He settled for enjoying the view.

As she finally pulled his pants fully off and tossed the bottom half of a $5,000 tuxedo carelessly over her shoulder, she had meant to tease him some more. But seeing him there, eyes closed and head thown back, hands over his head and cock jutting out, twitching with desire, he was so fucking sexy she couldn’t even take the time to kiss back up his legs. She thought briefly about being irritated with him for getting his way, just by being himself, but was just too damn happy – and now too eager to feel him inside her – to bother. She simply tried to take her time as she slid her lips up the inside of his thigh, finally moving into the position they both wanted her in. She had at least enough patience to taunt him with her tongue, running it up and down his shaft and around the head of his cock without lowering her mouth over him, until he finally groaned, “Fuck, Laura, please…”

Step twenty-two came only a few minutes after she took him into her mouth and began to suck up and down his length, swirling her tongue around his head. By then, he was more or less incapable of speech, and reached down to pull her to him.

“What step are we on?” Laura gasped, hardly more coherent than Rafael was.

“Who the hell knows? _Ven aca_[3]…”

Laura had just enough mental capacity to notice fondly that, the more excited he became, the more he spoke exclusively Spanish, whereas she was just the opposite. 

Finesse, creative positions and going slowly would all have to wait. Without discussing it, she slid next to him on her back and he rolled onto her, lips meeting in hungry, breathless intimacy. She wrapped one leg around him and used the other for leverage to move into position. He plunged into her, both of them uttering loud groans of pleasure that could very likely be heard in the hallway and the next room. Their grunts and breathless gasps of “I love you” – his in Spanish, hers in English - punctuated his thrusts. Soon enough, she wrapped her other leg around him.

He took her hand and slid it between them, placing her fingers near her clit. “Do you think you can come with me?” He asked between grunts.

“I can try,” she gasped. 

Laura thought she’d never heard anything as perfect as his deep voice in her ear telling her he loved her between cries as he exploded into her. She felt another tear of overflowing happiness as, moments later, she easily rubbed herself over the threshold with him. 

A long time later, when their breathing was just beginning to slow, he moved to roll off of her. She held him where he was, exactly where she wanted him. “Stay. Please. Just a while longer,” she whispered.

“Forever,” he murmured.

The soaking tub in the hotel room was so huge that Laura could literally float in it without touching the sides. She and Rafael kept having to shush each other, given the lateness of the hour and the likelihood that their laughter in the echoing room could be heard elsewhere. They lounged in the hot, fragrant water infused with some lovely jasmine bath salts they had found in the well-stocked bathroom, chatting lazily and luxuriating in the bliss of being together at last, all doubt and hesitation swept away. 

Rafael refilled a champagne glass with sparkling water and handed it to Laura, settling back down in the water and pulling her back into position against him. 

“Thanksgiving is coming up. Remind me to be thankful for room service.”

“And hotels that have robes for you to wear. You realize we have no clothes except the ones we wore tonight.”

Rafael chuckled and took a drink from his champagne glass. “I’m not scheduled to worry about that until Sunday morning. Late morning.”

Laura sighed happily. “What do you suppose Glen and Snooki are doing right now?”

“I hope they’re doing the same thing we’re doing.”

“Where the hell did she come from, anyway?”

“She works at the place where I get my hair cut. She’s been after me for a while. She’s, ah… not subtle.”

“Hmmm,” Laura murmured, wanting to be kind to the woman who, through no fault of her own, had found herself between them. “Well, she has impeccable taste in men.”

“And the gorilla?”

“Krav maga class. He’s actually a nice guy.”

Spurred by the desire to be generous to Laura’s date, Rafael noted, “He seemed to be.”

“Do you suppose Liv will forgive us?” Laura mused.

“Of course she will. And I hope she and Captain Tucker are doing this exact same thing right now, too.”

Laura squeezed him. “You’re in an awfully good mood.”

“I’m in love. I want everyone to be as happy as I am right now.”

She laughed, feeling a rush of warmth at hearing that. “Who would’ve believed that you, of all people, are a hopeless romantic?”

He shrugged. “I also just got spectacularly laid. It might be that.”

“AAAUGH! And just like that, the magic’s gone.”

They laughed until they had to shush one another again.

[1] My love

[2] Sweetheart

[3] Come here


	47. The Season Of Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, happily together, Rafael Barba and OC Laura Parker enjoy the holidays.

It was hard for Rafael to feel jealous, even though Laura was laughing out loud at an email from Peter Stone. Mostly, that was because she was wearing the tie he’d worn to work that day, and nothing else, as she sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed. 

“My mother is trying to furnish Peter’s apartment for him with stuff from our house. She’s threatening him with the floral couch from the basement.”

“If he doesn’t want it, he should just say so,” Rafael responded distractedly, busy trying to take notes on a brief he’d been served with that afternoon. He was sitting against the headboard, tapping the end of his pen against his lower lip.

“You’ve met my mother.”

“Fair point. He’s screwed.”

“I’ll talk to her. But I’m gonna give him shit first.”

“Of course you are, _mi amante_[1].” 

Laura decided that she didn’t want him to pay more attention to his work than to her, at least right at this moment. She’d given him a long enough break after he’d jumped her the minute she’d come home. She reached over and set her phone on the bedside table, then crawled over to him, lying on her stomach with her head on the pillow. He smiled as she began to stroke his chest with light touches, and wasn’t surprised when she began to place soft, slow kisses across his abdomen. 

When she slid down in the bed, he murmured, “You’re insatiable.”

“It’s your fault,” came her voice from under the covers. “If you weren’t so fucking sexy…”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, now using a hand and her tongue in a way that had his full attention.

“That’s because I’m lying,” he replied, laying his head back against the headboard. 

Being in a committed relationship was affecting Rafael in unexpected ways. He sometimes still found himself wrestling with insecurities, and he was never not going to be jealous of other men who noticed Laura in certain ways. He would have thought that, given his past, he would have been in no hurry to move forward from where they had been for the past couple of months. But the previous Sunday morning, as they lay side by side in bed, both absorbed in their computer tablets, he had found himself checking out real estate. Real estate. As in, maybe a little brownstone. Something with a stoop. And a large bathtub, given his recent discovery that Laura absolutely loved taking baths together and he… didn’t object. The bathtubs in their apartments were entirely inadequate for the purpose, however. He was a little nervous about what it meant that he was looking at real estate, other than the fact that it had become entirely superfluous for them to have separate apartments. But far less nervous than he would have expected.

Rafael also found that, whereas he had never given one second’s thought to it when other people did it, he now felt a certain glow whenever he used the words “we” and “us” to mean himself and Laura. _Que savia. Un romántico descuidado, tierno de corazón._[2] He had known that about himself, of course, and been annoyed and embarrassed by it, keeping it entirely secret to the best of his abilities. Only Anatalia had ever seen that most private side of him, and had shattered him with it. But now, with Laura, he didn’t even mind that his family and a few close friends could see it. He had even refrained from responding sharply on the very few occasions when one of them had dared to gently tease him about it. 

Laura could sometimes see when his feelings frightened him. At those times, she would be especially vocal and demonstrative about how she felt, and careful not to push him to respond in kind. She also preemptively did things to make him feel safe. She hid notes in his briefcase sometimes, just silly ‘I love yous’ that wouldn’t embarrass him too much if someone else saw them. Anytime another man flirted with her in his presence, she would reach out and touch Rafael, or go to stand with him, even give him a secret wink if it was a situation where something more overt wasn’t appropriate. If she was at the courthouse when he was in court, regardless of whether it was a case SVU was involved in, she would slip into the back of the courtroom and wait until he spotted her, just to say a silent hello to him across the room. 

He had laughed at her once when she’d actually sat down and watched him for a while. He had looked surprised and a little confused when he looked back and saw she was still there. It wasn’t a trial, just a bunch of pretrial motions in a murder case with no connection to SVU. When the hearing was over, they met in the courtroom aisle and walked into the hallway together.

“Everything OK?”

“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to watch you.”

“You stayed here specifically to watch me in court?”

“Well, some people watch porn…”

His unrestrained laughter and the smile stretching his lips told her she had done the right thing.

For her part, Laura didn’t expect things to move forward quickly, and she didn’t need them to. She was entirely content as long as she and Rafael were together. Her heart was his, permanently and unequivocally, and he loved her back just as much. She saw forever with him, and intended to make that happen, regardless of whether they spent the rest of their lives paying for separate apartments and struggling to find the right word to describe their relationship. 

“Boyfriend” was just stupid. Rafael wasn’t a boy, and their relationship was not casual. “Fiance” would have been nice, but they weren’t engaged and she was never going to push him on that. What else was there? “Significant other?” Ugh. Sounded like the way a sociologist would describe some blood-brother bond among hunters in a primitive society. “Partner?” Too generic and too businesslike. “Lover” just implied sex and made people uncomfortable. Spanish had many more appropriate words, all of them prettier and many more accurate than those available in English. 

*****************

It was amazing to think that Rafael was actually going to go to Midnight Mass with her. As many times as she had asked him, he had never agreed to go to Mass with her before. Laura was careful not to make too big a deal of it, because she didn’t want to make him self-conscious or give him any reason to regret his decision. But she was really looking forward to being next to the man she loved in church on Christmas Eve. 

Rafael thought Laura had never looked more beautiful. Her red dress was entirely appropriate for church, but he was somewhat concerned about smiting because the way it flattered her was going to make it hard to avoid impure thoughts. As he waited for her, he sat on the end of her couch, fascinated by Laura’s Christmas tree. The tree was beautiful; the ornaments artistically chosen and hung, and its presence in her apartment made it seem like a home. He’d given her grief about the trouble she’d gone to for a mere decoration, even as he’d helped her bring the tree into the apartment and set it up. But the truth was, he liked that she’d done it, and he liked the way her apartment felt with the Christmas decorations around. 

She came back from her bedroom, holding a wrapped present. Her smile was sheepish as she sat down on the floor between the Christmas tree and Rafael’s feet. “Merry Christmas,” she said as she handed it to him.

“Really? I didn’t know we were going to…”

“I wanted to.” 

“Should I open it now?” He asked, intrigued to learn what she had chosen for him.

“Go ahead.” 

He unwrapped the box to find a dress shirt with a gorgeous tie and – of course - suspenders that matched the tie. She hadn’t forgotten the matching socks. The whole ensemble was superb. He knew how absurdly particular he was about his clothes, and he definitely would have chosen these for himself. The idea that she knew him that well, that she paid that much attention, made tears press behind his eyes. He was flattered, but also a little stunned, that she had obviously spent a great deal on this gift; more than he would have spent on himself. “Laura, these are… perfect. Really. But I know how … I mean…”

“Barba?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and say thank you.” She was beaming. 

“Which?”

Laura blinked.

“Do you want me to shut up? Or do you want me to say thank you?”

“You’re even difficult on Christmas.”

He smiled and shrugged. “You wouldn’t recognize me otherwise.”

He looked down again at the beautiful clothes she’d chosen. “Thank you, _cariño_[3]. They’re wonderful. I can’t wait to wear them.”

He reached down and she raised up on her knees to meet him halfway for a hug that lasted a long time. When she sat back down, he was pulling a wrapped box from the pocket of his coat. He handed it to her with a wide grin.

“You said…” 

“I say a lot of things. Open it.”

She grinned back at him, then pulled off the ribbon and tore off the paper, setting them on the floor next to her. Nervously, she took hold of the bottom and the top of the velvet box, opening it to reveal a beautifully carved silver bracelet. Laura gasped. It was exquisite, and very much her taste. She reached out to take the lovely bracelet from its box and put it on her wrist. 

“Look inside,” Rafael said.

Laura turned the bracelet over and held it up. Inside was the inscription, _“Hemos construido Ikea muebles juntos. Hay un vínculo._[4]” She was overcome by a mixture of tremendous amusement, happiness, and deep emotion. A tear ran down her cheek as she let loose with a shriek of laughter. She raised up on her knees again and threw her arms around him. _How could he have remembered that throw-away remark she’d made to him a million years ago?_

“I would pay real money to see the look on the guy’s face when you asked for that inscription,” she giggled into his shoulder.

Rafael snickered. “He didn’t speak Spanish. Just made me spell it. I told him it meant ‘Employee of the Month’.”

They laughed as they held eachother. Laura could feel Rafael’s deep laugh where her ear was pressed against his chest.

“Thank you so much, Rafael – I love it. I really do. And the inscription…” she shook her head against his chest, still laughing. “How do you remember that?” 

“I remember everything about you. Besides, that was the first time you said that we meant something to each other. And it’s true, you know,” he said quietly, a smile in his voice. He put two fingers under her chin, turning her face up to his. “We do have a bond.”

They were still smiling as their lips met. What had been a hug between close friends gradually transformed into the intimate embrace of lovers as they repositioned their arms to press their bodies closer together. Laura felt heat flood her body as she found herself exactly where she most wanted to be. Rafael smelled delicious; like warm cinnamon and musk and maleness. She followed his lead, tilting her head to allow him to capture her lips with his, opening to his seeking tongue. 

Rafael wanted nothing more than to lay Laura out on the floor and make love to her there under the Christmas tree. His fingers played with the zipper pull at the neck of her dress, but he restrained his desire to take hold of it. He knew from the way she was melting into him, moving with him, and eagerly blending her mouth with his that she would be happy for him to lower the zipper and slip the pretty red dress from her body. But he also knew that she really wanted them to go to Mass together. In truth, he wanted that, too. 

“We should go,” he whispered hoarsely. 

“Rafa-“ she began, reaching to pull him back to her.

“If you back out on me now, after all the times you’ve tried to get me to go to church…” The warmth in his voice said much more than his words.

Laura sighed. “OK, you’re right.” She smiled and smoothed his hair where she’d messed it up with her fingers. Trying to cool her ardor, she closed her eyes and sucked in as big a breath as she could, blowing it out as slowly as possible. “But first you have to say it again.”

“I love you,” he said, smiling as he looked into her eyes.

***********************

Laura slowed as she reached the fourth floor. She could hear the sounds of laughter and happy voices coming from Seora Barba’s apartment. She hesitated very briefly, then did what she always did when she had to do something and wasn’t sure she was brave enough. She did it before she had time to think.

_Señora_ Barba opened the door almost immediately. She took one look at Laura and began to shriek. “_Laurita! Qué linda sorpresa! Feliz Navidad_![5]”

She pulled Laura into a bear hug before Laura had a chance to say more than a breathless, “_Feliz Navidad_.” The hug lasted only seconds before she pulled Laura inside, shutting the door behind her. Laura found herself propelled bodily into _Señora_ Barba’s living room, where she stood blinking and smiling awkwardly as a roomful of people turned toward her.

“_Mira!_[6] Rafael’s _novia_[7] is here!”

Laura’s voice as she awkwardly said hello was drowned out by a roomful of greetings in Spanish and English. She tried to smile and seem friendly while trying to locate Rafael in the crowd. She needed backup. 

_Señora_ Barba to the rescue. “Rafael, _se un caballero. Ven a cuidar de tu novia_[8],” she called over several other voices. 

He stood up from a couch against the wall where he had been sitting with an older couple. She hadn’t seen him from where she stood because he was behind her. When she did, the look on his face stopped her heart. Rafael’s eyes were full of emotion. He stepped toward her and took her into his arms. For the moment they held each other, there was no one else in the room. They missed several meaningful glances between Rafael’s family members.

He pulled back and looked down into her eyes. His voice was warm. “Merry Christmas.”

She smiled up at him. “Merry Christmas.”

“Manhattan is behaving today, apparently.”

“There wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait. I still have to be on call, but here I am.”

“I’m very glad you could make it.” 

“Me, too. I think.”

He grinned. “Don’t worry. It’s just _mi familia_.[9] I’ve got you.” Rafael squeezed her shoulder as he turned her and led her to the couch where he had been sitting. He introduced her to his aunt and uncle and they began to talk, Rafael keeping his arm around her as they sat close together. His aunt and uncle were very polite, but it was clear they had a little trouble understanding her Spanish, especially over all the other conversation going on around them. 

As they were all chatting, a woman with long, curly dark hair streaked with white handed Laura a glass of wine. Laura could see the family resemblance. “Here, _querida_[10]. I am Rafael’s cousin Maria Teresa.”

Laura smiled and accepted the wine, intending simply not to drink it. However, _Señora_ Barba’s voice cut through the noise, stopping every conversation in the room. Thirty pairs of eyes turned toward Laura. 

“No, No, No!” _Señora _Barba shouted, crossing the room with a wine glass filled with amber liquid. “Maria Teresa, you take that back – You can’t give Laura wine!” In a whisper clearly heard by all, she hissed, “_Ella es una alcohólica_!”[11] 

She turned to Laura and handed her the glass of amber liquid, snatching the wine from her hand. “I got some cider for you, Laurita. I wanted you to feel comfortable.”

Laura wished she could laugh out loud at the irony of that comment. She felt Rafael tense, and knew he was about to rescue her, which might make an awkward situation into an outright embarrassing one. So she smiled broadly at both Maria Teresa and _Señora_ Barba and said, “_Gracias_ to both of you. You’re very kind, thank you.” 

Maria Teresa began to apologize, but Laura stood up and gently touched her on the arm to stop her. “No, please, don’t apologize. It was very nice of you to bring me a drink.” 

Maria Teresa seemed to accept that, and Laura turned to _Señora_ Barba. “And it was lovely of you to think of me, _Señora_. I appreciate the cider.”

“You call me Lucia, remember?”

“Of course. _Lo siento_.[12] Lucia.”

As women do, the three women quickly moved on from the uncomfortable moment and began to talk about other things. Soon the general hubbub resumed, and they were animatedly discussing whose children were whose among the many running around the apartment. Rafael simply sat looking up at them, thinking how strange – and entirely right – it was to see Laura among his family’s Christmas Day celebration.

As the party went on, Laura became more comfortable. Some of the kids invited her, as a new person they wanted to check out, to color with them at a low table in the dining room. She exclaimed over a drawing of a 6-legged horse, whose artist explained that more legs meant the horse could run faster.

“_Claro_,[13]” Laura shrugged, looking at Rafael as she sat down and prepared to make her own drawing. “_Claro_,” Rafael mouthed, smiling and looking so good there, leaning against a wall, that Laura got chills. 

When one of Rafael’s little cousins asked her why she spoke Spanish funny, she patiently explained that her family did not speak Spanish. She told him that, since she was still learning, she was going to need him to tell her when she made a mistake. He happily agreed and immediately began to look for opportunities to correct her. Soon the other children joined in and it became a game that made Laura laugh more than any of the kids.

Some time later, Rafael realized that he had fallen into a conversation with several of his relatives about American immigration policy, and hadn’t checked on Laura in too long. Some _caballero_.[14] He excused himself and found her in the kitchen, standing between his mother and his _Tia_[15] Inez, washing dishes. They were laughing. Intent on their tasks and their conversation, they didn’t notice him in the doorway, and didn’t stop talking about him.

“_Entiendes_,[16] he tells me nothing. All children think their parents are blind, or were born old. He talks about you all the time, but he thinks I don’t see he just likes to say your name.” _Señora_ Barba sighed. “I was the same way with Mateo, a hundred years ago.”

“Rafael is a special boy, Laurita. We’re all very proud of him. Be careful of him, won’t you? Don’t break his heart.” _Tia_ Inez looked over her glasses at Laura, giving weight to what had been spoken in a light tone.

“I won’t, I promise,” Laura said.

“Do you love him?” She asked pointedly.

“_Sí, Tia_ Inez, I do. With all my heart.” Laura answered softly, making Rafael’s heart lurch in his chest.

“_Bueno_[17]. Because you’re a sweet girl. I would hate to have to come after you _con esta cuchilla_.[18]”

She brandished the knife she was drying and they all laughed. 

Rafael quietly left the doorway before they noticed him, or the tears in his eyes. Laura didn’t need his help. She was making his family fall in love with her, just as she had done with him. And, apparently, as he had done with her. He wanted to shout with joy, but settled for beginning a rowdy game with some little cousins.

Around 9 p.m., parents with small children began to pack up, heading home. The party dispersed quickly after that. Laura received hugs from most of Rafael’s relatives as they left, especially the children. She was overwhelmed by the sheer number of Rafael’s relatives, but more overwhelmed by their generosity and eagerness to welcome her. As he said his own goodbyes, Rafael did not hear the many whispered confidences between his female relatives about how nice it was to see Rafael so obviously head over heels in love. Although she was a _gringa_,[19] they agreed that this Laura did seem to be just as much in love with him. 

When all but _Señora_ Barba and _Tia_ Inez had left the apartment, Rafael brought Laura’s coat and helped her put it on. He and Laura exchanged tight hugs with the older women, assuring _Señora_ Barba yet again that they did not need to take any leftovers home. Finally, Rafael opened the door and ushered Laura out to the landing.

“Laurita, you just remember _la cuchilla_,” Tia Inez smiled, shaking a teasing finger. Laura laughed.

“What was that?” Rafael asked as they descended the stairs, pretending not to have understood. 

“Nothing. A joke,” she smiled. 

They stepped out into the cold night air, refreshing after the closeness of all the people in _Señora_ Barba’s apartment. It was snowing lightly. Laura looked up at the sky, letting snowflakes fall on her face.

“The snow is beautiful. Let’s walk,” she suggested. 

“All the way back to Manhattan?” 

“Maybe not. But… a ways. It feels good out here. I feel like walking. Want to?”

“I do.” Rafael took Laura’s hand and they began to walk at an easy pace. 

For blocks, they didn’t feel any need to talk. They simply walked together, enjoying the night and each other’s company. The silence felt good after the cacophony of the apartment, full to bursting with Rafael’s family. Finally, Laura looked up into the snowy sky again, slowing their pace until she simply stopped. She took a huge, deep breath, and let it out in a long, happy sigh. She was smiling to herself. 

“What was that?” Rafael asked quietly.

She looked at him, still holding her hand. “Just… happiness.” She took a step toward him, smiling up at him as she put her arms around his neck. 

He pulled her close, smiling back. 

“I am completely in love with you, Rafael. All I want to do is be with you.”

He beamed. “Me too,” he spoke thickly, a lump forming in his throat.

“Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “You have to say it.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “I am completely in love with you. All I want to do is be with you.”

He tilted his head and softly began to kiss her, trying to express all the love he felt. She felt weightless, and as though there was no world beyond this man and this moment. For a very long time, they stood on the sidewalk, kissing deeply but sweetly, as the snow powdered their hair and coats.

“Will you come home with me?” He asked quietly, as their kisses began to take on more sensuality. 

“_Claro_,” she answered simply. 

He pulled out his phone and quickly called an Uber. When that was done, they again embraced and kissed happily until their ride arrived.

Rafael didn’t turn on any lights as they entered his apartment. Silently, he helped Laura off with her coat, shrugged off his own, then took her back into his arms. She giggled softly when he asked her if she wanted anything.

“I want you to make love to me.”

He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.

Afterward, they lay as they were, sweaty and sated. Laura tried briefly to decide whether this was the best sex she had ever had, but quickly gave up. For one thing, her mind was too foggy and drugged with endorphins. For another, she was just too damn happy to care. Rafael felt vaguely guilty for slamming into her so roughly, but felt a few orgasmic aftershocks just remembering her begging him to fuck her and then bucking her hips into him until she came, screaming. He thought it was probably OK, but dimly decided to ask her about it when he regained the capacity for speech. Which would be a while.

*********************

Neither Rafael nor Laura had any desire to share New Year’s Eve with anyone other than one another. Instead, they stood at the window of her apartment, watching a block party happening in the street. The only lights in the room were the twinkle lights on the Christmas tree.

“If we see a crime from here, do we have to get involved?” She asked.

“Don’t see a crime.”

Rafael stood behind Laura with his arms around her as they watched the revelers in the street setting off fireworks, dancing, and bouncing with impatience for the clock to hit midnight. The crowd began to count down the last ten seconds. 

It felt to Laura as though she and Rafael were alone in their own private universe, watching the cheerful inhabitants of a happy planet eager for some joyful event that was about to happen. It was fun to watch, but it couldn’t touch them. Nothing could. She felt exquisite chills as he whispered the countdown in her ear. When he reached three, she felt him lift her left hand with his and play with her fingers. Just as midnight struck and the crowd in the street erupted, she looked down to see that he had slipped an engagement ring onto her finger; a simple white gold band with a square, cushion-cut diamond solitaire. It was perfect.

“¿_Me Casarías?_[20]” He purred into her ear.

Laura turned her head to him, a single, fat tear sliding down her cheek. “_Claro. Si, claro_[21].”

They kissed blissfully as the rest of the city celebrated; singing, hugging, blowing party horns and throwing streamers and confetti.

[1] My lover, my paramour

[2] What a sap. A sloppy, tender-hearted romantic.

[3] Sweetheart

[4] We built Ikea furniture together. There’s a bond.

[5] What a lovely surprise! Merry Christmas!

[6] Look!

[7] Girlfriend

[8] Rafael, be a gentleman. Come take care of your girlfriend.

[9] My family

[10] Dear

[11] She’s an alcoholic!

[12] I’m sorry.

[13] Of course.

[14] Gentleman

[15] Aunt

[16] You understand

[17] Good

[18] With this knife

[19] Not Hispanic

[20] Will you marry me?

[21] Of course. Yes, of course.


	48. With This Ring...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba and OC Laura Parker, at long last, get married!!!!

“What would you say is the biggest challenge in your relationship?”

“He tries to tell me what to do.” Laura answered, adding more quietly, “That gets a little sporty sometimes.”

The priest looked over at Rafael. The amusement in Rafael’s eyes made Laura nervous, but all he said was, “I think I would agree with that.”

Laura breathed again.

Rafael had a number of issues with the Catholic Church, and had advocated for a quick, easy wedding, but he knew his fiancée well enough to know that wasn’t going to happen. Of all the things he had ever done to show his love for her, Laura thought that his being here in this room was the most telling. Rafael simply chalked it up to one more thing he would never have imagined he’d do, and then had done without hesitation when Laura asked him to. At least they hadn’t been required to take pre-marriage classes. 

Father Frederick would never understand how Laura had talked him into waiving that important step, which he usually required for all couples he married. He wasn’t worried. They weren’t kids, and nothing he’d learned had pointed to any serious issues. He had known Laura Parker since she’d joined Saint Augustine Parish several years before, and he was a good judge of people. He had also spent a number of hours one-on-one with Rafael Barba, and now had a good understanding of Rafael’s basic character. He hoped that Laura would be able to influence Rafael to come back to the Church, because between the two of them, Father Frederick thought Rafael might actually have the deeper, more unshakable faith. What Rafael thought was his anger toward the Church, Father Frederick believed was actually anger at his father and his ex-wife, both practicing Catholics whom Father Frederick would like to have a shot at in a dark alley with a baseball bat. He made a mental note to confess that desire at his next opportunity.

The pre-marriage counseling session didn’t take long. These two were more than compatible, and there were only a few red flags that required particular discussion. To be sure, Father Frederick was relieved to hear that they recognized they were both very strong-willed. They had also discussed the deep wounds both Rafael and Laura carried from the traumatic experiences of their pasts, and the ways those wounds caused problems for their relationship today. Still and all, Father Frederick had no reservations about marrying them. 

After that, it was just a matter of choosing a date, which was quickly done. Although they were already living together, a fact they hadn’t tried to hide from Father Frederick, they were both eager to have the blessing and sanction of the Church. Father Frederick was just as eager to get them properly married and out of a state of sin. 

***********

Choosing a dress had been easy. Laura knew exactly how she wanted to look when she married Rafael. It had also been easy to agree that they wanted to be married in the beautiful little chapel at St. Augustine’s, rather than the main church, with a small number of family and very close friends in attendance. Lucia informed them that, intimate wedding or not, one doesn’t marry a Hispanic man with a huge, Catholic family without a correspondingly huge party afterward. They had cheerfully accepted her help in arranging one. 

No, wedding preparations hadn’t been the problem. The problem, the hardest step for Laura in preparing to marry Rafael, had been telling Peter Stone. Her mother had flatly refused to be the one to do it. Carol had scolded Laura for even suggesting such a cowardly and unfeeling thing. In truth, Laura had been pretty sure she would, but she’d tried anyway. 

Peter had started dating a woman a few months after returning to Chicago, and the relationship sounded like it was progressing nicely. Still, Laura was the one getting married, and even she felt a certain sadness at the knowledge that her romance with Peter, the other great love of her life, was truly and finally over for good. She thought maybe Peter might feel a little sad, too, and she didn’t like the idea of hurting him. 

“So… um… I called to tell you something.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, I’m… getting married. To Rafael. In May.”

There had been only the smallest hesitation before Peter had congratulated her and, as expected, reminded her that he had predicted that. 

“I’ve been telling you for years you should listen to me, but I’ve given up expecting you to.”

“Be nice to me. I talked Mom out of the flowered couch.”

“I am being nice to you. I’m happy for you. Rafael’s a lucky bastard, and I hope he knows it. And how did you talk your Mom out of making me take that couch, anyway?”

Peter only felt a little guilty about changing the subject. As long as he’d been expecting this news, it still hit him like a sledgehammer.

“I told her… You know what? Don’t ask me that. You don’t want to know.”

“Now you have to tell me.”

“Really-“

“Sunshine. Spill.”

“OK, but you asked for it. I told her that we lost our virginity on it. Together. And it would be too emotionally difficult for you to have it in your apartment.”

“You’re not lying about that last part. But I wish I thought you were kidding.”

“You know I’m not.”

“Sunny, you are - something.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“I don’t know.”

“So, anyway, it’s a tiny wedding. Just close family and friends, which is you on both counts, but… I don’t know if you’d want to come. Don’t feel like you have to.”

“That’s kind of a tough one, Sunshine. You know how I feel. I honestly don’t think I can go to your wedding.”

“I didn’t think so. I’m not going to yours. But… you know. I had to ask.”

“I know. And listen. I’m really happy for you. I wish you everything good in the world.”

“Thanks, Peter. That’s what I want for you, too.”

Peter had thought a long time ago that he had cried for the last time over Laura Parker. But he’d been wrong.

***********

Carisi and Rollins had volunteered to be sort of unofficial ushers. Unofficial because the wedding was really too small to need ushers, but they’d wanted to do something, and Sonny said that he had experience with some odd behavior at weddings in his family. They just wanted to be sure the day was perfect for their friends. The whole squad was overjoyed that Rafael and Laura were getting married. As much as they liked Laura, they had known and cared about Rafael longer, and were especially thrilled to see him happy. It was obvious that he had found a woman who loved him beyond reason, would protect him with her life, and not only tolerated his crankiness but adored him for it. For a while, they’d hoped that being in love (and getting laid regularly) might also make Barba a bit easier to deal with, but that hadn’t happened. Still, they were happy for him.

Neither Laura nor Rafael ever knew how fortunate it was that Carisi and Rollins were on the door that day.

Rafael’s childhood friend Alex Muñoz and his wife, Yelena, arrived with a guest. She was a Hispanic woman who looked as though she had been very pretty at one time but, as Amanda later put it confidentially to Sonny, “That girl’s got some miles on her.” They knew that, at some point in the distant past, Rafael had dated Alex’s wife Yelena, but since Rafael had invited her along with her husband – how could he not – they were willing to be pleasant. But the idea of bringing an uninvited guest to a wedding as intimate as this one rubbed Amanda the wrong way, and the woman herself bothered Sonny. Carisi, who liked everybody until they gave him a reason not to, immediately distrusted her.

And then as Amanda and Sonny were quietly engaging them with questions about how they knew the couple – in other words, interrogation dressed up as social chat – Yelena called the woman “Ana.” Amanda’s suspicions went into the red.

“Oh, Ana, what a lovely name.”

Sonny knew immediately that things were about to get interesting. He’d been partnered with Rollins a long time. He knew when she was about to go Amanda.

As Amanda had intended, the woman explained that “Ana” was short for “Anatalia.” 

Anatalia. Rafael’s ex-wife. _The one who treated him so horribly that poor Laura basically had to use a crowbar to finally get his pants off_, Amanda thought. _Oh, hell no. That is not happening._

The sweet, southern smile on Amanda’s face didn’t change. True to her heritage, she appeared perfectly polite and charming as she let Anatalia know – without saying one specific word – that both she and Sonny knew the kind of woman she was. Afterward, neither Yelena nor Anatalia could ever figure out what, exactly, Amanda had said that was so insulting. But they both distinctly got the message. 

They got Sonny’s message, as well. Both barrels of it – Italy _and_ Staten Island. He was far more pointed and far less polite than Amanda had been when he told them that Anatalia would not be attending Rafael and Laura’s wedding. For good measure, he shared his opinions on the kind of woman who would even attempt such a thing, and the kind of people who would help her do it. 

Anatalia and Yelena sputtered and began to affect discreet outrage, not wanting to make a scene. Amanda, however, was unwilling to give one second to such bullshit on such a happy day. She simply shut it down with a quiet, surgical nuclear strike. “Honey, I think it might be best if you listened to Sonny, but I’d be happy to just have a quiet word with Lucia and ask her what she thinks.”

The reaction on both women’s faces was spectacularly entertaining to both Amanda and Sonny, although neither showed it at the time. Amanda had correctly guessed that Lucia Barba was not a woman to be crossed, and that both Yelina and Anatalia had good reason to know that. That moment gave birth to a favorite, very private joke between Amanda and Sonny. They referred to making an especially effective threat during an interrogation “Asking Lucia.” 

It was crystal clear that Anatalia was not getting past Rollins and Carisi. Alex had privately wondered what she and Yelena had been thinking in the first place, but he’d never really liked Ana and wasn’t much surprised when she suggested something as tasteless as crashing Rafi’s wedding. Consummate politician that he was, Alex suggested that the ladies have lunch somewhere while he attended the wedding by himself. He later explained to Rafael and Laura that Yelena was “indisposed” and couldn’t attend. Neither of them gave it a second thought.

**************

The wedding itself was perfect. The mothers cried, Rollins and Carisi cried, and even Olivia and Fin had tears in their eyes. Ed Parker only cried once, just as he finished walking her down the aisle and set Laura’s hand in Rafael’s. 

Laura wouldn’t remember much about the ceremony. She was glad there were pictures and a video, because all she was aware of was Rafael. Every detail of his adorably handsome face was precious to her. He always dressed well, and he always looked good to her, but she thought that, standing next to her in his morning suit, beaming with joy, he looked the best she’d ever seen him. She remembered the night in the safe house when she had first realized she loved him, and marveled at the meager fragility of that feeling compared to the feeling she had for him now. She had been completely unprepared to fall in love with a man so much smarter and stronger than she was, so irascible and combative on the outside and yet so privately tender and romantic. But she remembered during the ceremony to offer profound thanks to God that she had. And that he loved her just as fiercely as she loved him.

It was the same for Rafael. His entire focus was on Laura, this brash, irreverent woman who wore thousand-year-old cutoffs and T-shirts whose logos were faded to memories, who had saved his life on multiple occasions despite his reprehensible treatment of her, and who fearlessly waved her love for him like a banner before the whole world. He thought she was beautiful in her simple, elegant white gown and the gauzy veil that sparkled just a little in the morning sunlight. He wanted a picture of her, looking just like that, on his desk to look at every day for the rest of his life. He had done his best to prevent falling in love with her, and to keep her at a distance, but as he stood before the priest and vowed to spend his life caring for her, he thanked God for ignoring what he’d thought he wanted.

***********

The sun streamed in, causing Rafael to throw an arm over his eyes and Laura to bury her head under a pillow. It had been late when they’d finally stumbled into their hotel room, laughing and kissing, and they weren’t quite ready for it to be shining in on the bed, waking them from an exhausted sleep. 

They were clear headed, neither having drank any alcohol at the party the night before. Rafael was aware that he could drink if he chose; Laura was clear that she was responsible for her own sobriety. He just preferred not to drink when he was with her. Everyone else at the party had freely indulged, however. Lucia and Carol, who had become fast friends and a fearsome duo, had chosen to hold the party in a restaurant owned by – no surprise – relatives of Lucia’s. The space had rough wooden pillars down the sides of a very large room, supporting rafters of the same wood from which hung cascades of multicolored flowers. The layout made for a huge public space with a raised platform for musicians and acres of floor for dancing, surrounded by rustic, well-used tables covered with brightly-colored linens and dishes. It also created darker, more secluded spaces on the edges beyond the pillars where smaller tables lined the walls. There were thousands of twinkle lights on the rafters and surrounding the pillars, and several votive candles on every table. 

The musicians who had been hired for the occasion were from the neighborhood, and welcomed anyone who wanted to join them. The guest who joined them to sing the most songs turned out to be Father Frederick, who sang beautifully and was easily talked into singing. Everybody forgave him for the hilarious result when he tried to sing in Spanish.

The food was so good, and so plentiful, that everyone commented later they’d eaten far more than they’d planned. And everyone had such a good time that most of them also drank more than they’d planned, which made for an easy mixing of the various groups of guests.

Rafael smiled remembering his cousins Ramón and Selena teaching the cha-cha to Olivia and Tucker, who were too tipsy to be any good but had a great time. Fin and his lady, on the other hand, turned out to have some serious moves despite drinking as much as everyone else. Laura’s older brother Steve showed an unexpected interest in learning to cha-cha, which seemed odd until Steve and Selena disappeared about halfway through the party.

Things hadn’t worked out with the Sergeant from Computer Crimes, but Rollins seemed to be taking that in stride. She spent most of the party at a secluded table in a dim corner of the room with an investigator from the D.A.’s office. Carisi and Dean had bonded with Laura’s younger brother Dan and – all three a bit the worse for drink - had learned quite a few colorful Spanish phrases and found themselves very well-liked by Rafael’s many relatives. Carol and Ed Parker tried to ignore their drunken son, but Lucia thought it was hilarious and kept pointing out their shenanigans throughout the night. The only time Lucia faltered was when, after downing shots of something, the three had shouted a particularly graphic phrase they’d just learned. When Carol had asked what they’d said, Lucia blushed and lied. 

At one point, one of Rafael’s more inebriated uncles had gone to one knee and proposed to Carmen, who had gracefully negotiated a dance for the moment, in exchange for some time to think about agreeing to marriage.

Rafael and Laura had changed into more casual, comfortable clothes after the wedding, and had spent an exhausting evening trying to make sure they spoke to everyone. It was a difficult task because everyone wanted to feed them, or dance with them, or give them marital advice. It was made more difficult by the fact that they really didn’t feel like being separated. It happened again and again; they kept being swept apart by the many well-wishers, and afterwards Rafael would have to go looking for Laura.

His wife. The idea popped his eyes open and he looked over at her in the bed. She was wearing the bow tie from his morning suit, which he had tied for her once they were finally alone at the hotel, simply because she wanted to wear it. It was still tied perfectly, though hanging crookedly around her neck. He peeked under the covers to confirm that, in fact, it was all she had on. He didn’t know why those silly ideas she got were so adorable to him, but he supposed he’d better get used to it. 

She felt him move the covers and peeked out from under the pillow. 

“Am I married to you?” She asked sleepily.

“You are.”

“Legally? Like, consummated and stuff?”

“Fully and inescapably.”

“Sweet.” She rolled over and pulled the pillow back over her head. It was a little hard to get back to sleep because her jaw actually ached from smiling so much the day before.

Rafael ordered breakfast from room service and cuddled up to Laura to doze until it arrived.

**********

After a short honeymoon in the Poconos, Laura and Rafael eventually returned to work and began life in their new normal. It was no different than it had been before they were married, other than having moved into their new apartment. But somehow it felt different, in part because every single time Laura caught a glimpse of Rafael’s wedding ring, she felt a new sensation of bliss, on top of the little frisson of excitement she’d always felt when she saw him.


	49. What Has To Be Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba protects his wife from a stalker.

A young man brought a large bouquet of flowers through the door to the squad room. 

“Oh, no,” Amanda warned, catching Laura’s attention.

“I got flowers for a Laura Parker?” The delivery man called out, looking around.

Laura rolled her eyes and indicated the chair next to her desk. “Have a seat,” she said to the delivery man. “This is gonna take longer than you expected. Hope you’re not double-parked.”

When Olivia returned from ComStat, she saw the flowers and knew immediately that Parker had received another gift from Simmons. Catching Rollins’ eye, she pointed to the bouquet and raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. Him again. Parker and Fin are at the flower shop right now.”

“Is there a card?” 

“Yeah, he’s escalating. This one is an out-and-out threat.” Rollins handed Olivia an evidence bag with a florist’s card inside.

I love you. Don’t make me hurt you like you’re hurting me.

Olivia scowled. “They should’ve checked with me first. This isn’t something Parker can be investigating anymore. What if he’s waiting for her at the flower shop?”

“Fin’s there.”

“That’s something. But you’re right, he’s escalating. So this is the last time.”

“I don’t envy you telling Parker that.”

“Yeah.”

**********

The package delivered to Laura three days later was the size of a shoebox, but heavy. That, in itself, had been enough to prompt the evacuation of the station house and investigation by the bomb squad. But it wasn’t a bomb. It was worse.

Laura felt sick. The poor cat appeared to have been healthy and well cared for, with a collar that included an ID tag. Until the sick bastard had decapitated and disemboweled it. 

“Fuck,” she whispered. She looked up at Olivia, her face pale and her eyes wide. “I don’t suppose we can keep this from my husband.”

“I don’t see how.”

“Awesome. Cue the ‘we’re leaving town until they catch this creep’ speech.”

“He’s got a point.”

“Oh, not you, too.”

“Yes. Me, too.”

“Is that an order?

“Not yet. But Simmons is out of control. You need to let us take it from here.” 

“I’m working other cases! I’ve got work to do. If he comes for me, Fin and I will deal with him. Please, Liv. As long as I’m around, he’ll keep doing this stuff, and every time he does, he’s exposed. That gives us the chance to catch him. I split, he goes to ground until I’m back. Or worse, he starts on someone else.”

“All right. For now. But you stay far away from this investigation. Understood?”

“Understood, Lieu.”

Rafael was livid. The moment he heard about the cat, he was on the phone to Laura, telling her to stay at the station house until he could come get her and take her out of town. Laura closed her eyes, shook her head, and went into the crib, from which the squad expected to hear arguing from behind the closed door. There was no yelling, but they could hear the clipped words and exaggerated pronunciation of a very tense discussion. 

“Rafael, I love you. I know you’re worried about me, and I appreciate it. But this is not. your. call.”

“_¡Joder!_[1] 

“Look, Liv’s OK with me staying on. If you won’t trust my judgment, trust hers.”

“It’s not your judgment I question, it’s this maniac’s. We’re not done talking about this. In the meantime, you be careful.”

“Always. Now go back to work.”

The following day, as Laura and Fin drove across town working a case, they noticed a car tailing them. 

“You think it’s him?” Fin asked.

“Let’s check it out.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Give him what he wants.”

“You sure?” Fin squinted at Laura.

“You got me, right?” She shrugged, grinning at him.

“If Barba asks, I was against this from the beginning,” Fin said, pulling into a parking lot. 

The blue Hyundai compact pulled into a parking stall near them, but across the aisle. No one got out. Fin and Laura decided to push it by getting out of their car and heading to either side of the Hyundai. As soon as they did, though, the Hyundai pulled back out of the stall and squealed off, nearly clipping Laura in the process. She jumped and rolled just in time to avoid being hit.

Fin ran to her side and helped her up from the pavement. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” she told him, disgusted. “Damn, that was him. We almost had him.”

Laura’s phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but that wasn’t unusual. Just after she answered, her expression went hard and she pushed the speaker button.

“- and I don’t like that. You really hurt my feelings, Laura. Why won’t you love me?”

“Hey, Art, I know you’re upset. Why don’t you come back here? Maybe we can talk about it.”

“Get rid of that other guy.”

“I can do that,” she said. Fin tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, but didn’t interfere.

“You- you will?” Simmons stammered. 

“Yeah, Art. I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Let’s talk.”

“You’re trying to trick me.”

“I’m trying to fix things between us, Art. That’s all.” 

“You’re a liar! You bitch, you’re trying to trick me! Why are you such a bitch?” At first, he had been shouting furiously into the phone. Now, Fin and Laura could hear him begin to sob. “All I ever did is love you! Why won’t you love me back?”

“Come on, Art, please don’t cry. Just come back and talk to me.” 

“Yeah, I’m gonna come back, you filthy whore, and I’m gonna rip you apart!” He was screaming, almost incoherent before the call ended abruptly. 

Laura and Fin looked at eachother, stunned. 

“Next mood swing in 3…2…1…” Fin murmured.

“Holy crap. He’s completely unhinged.”

“Yeah. I think it might be time for you to bow out.”

“Screw that. We’ve got him, Partner. All I gotta do now is stay put and let him come to me.”

Squealing tires drew their attention to the end of the row of cars where a blue compact was tearing around the corner. 

“Go!” Fin yelled, pushing Laura toward one row of cars while he sprang for the other. 

As soon as Simmons cleared the corner of the row of cars, he aimed his car directly at Laura. She could see his red face, distorted with rage, teeth bared, as he bore down on her. She ran between two cars to avoid being crushed between Simmons’s Hyundai and their squad car. He aimed at the space Laura had entered, his compact ramming violently into the cars on either side. He immediately jammed the Hyundai into reverse, pulled back a few feet and, ramming the gearshift again, shot out the other end of the aisle before either Laura or Fin could get off an effective shot.

Laura slammed her hand down hard on the hood of a car and swore as Fin reached her. 

“You OK?” He asked, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking her over. 

“Yeah, yeah. How is that car still drivable? Just my luck, I get the stalker with the indestructible Hyundai.”

“Let’s call it in.”

Rafael was stiff and quiet when he arrived at the station that evening to take Laura home. She knew without asking that someone had told him about the incident in the parking lot, which meant he was going to be implacable about making her leave town until Simmons was caught. 

It had been over a week that Laura hadn’t been allowed to work late or to go anywhere alone. It drove her crazy, but even she had to admit it was necessary. It would have been nice, working normal hours and going home with Rafael in time for dinner, if it hadn’t been for the reason. At first, they had enjoyed it and taken advantage of the opportunity to spend the long evenings in bed together. But as time had gone by, and Simmons had become more aggressive about stalking Laura, romance had given way to tension as Rafael had become more anxious for her safety, and Laura more determined to stay in New York and live her life as normally as possible. With each incident, the strain got worse. 

As if by agreement, they didn’t discuss the situation on the drive home, or as they made dinner together, he dressed in jeans and a sweater, she dressed in sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt. They both knew the situation had turned a corner. 

Rafael tried to be calm. He knew they were going to have to have a very difficult conversation, but, for now, he just wanted to enjoy being with Laura. He looked across the kitchen at her, looking cuter than anyone should look in their most casual clothes; hair in low pigtails, barefoot, cutting up vegetables for a salad. As gorgeous as she looked in an evening gown with her hair and makeup perfect, as beautiful as she was in the street clothes she wore to work, he found her most irresistible like this; no makeup, hair haphazard, in grubby clothes that only incidentally revealed her curves. This was a Laura that belonged only to him. 

“You’re staring at me,” she said, giving him a tentative grin. 

“Hard not to. You’re pretty cute.”

Her smile became more genuine. “_I’m_ cute? Have you seen _you_?”

Rafael took the few steps across the kitchen to where she was. She turned to him, putting her arms around his neck as she drew her to him. 

“_Te amo_,”[2] he whispered into her hair.

“Me, too.” 

They stood there, simply holding one another, for quite some time. They didn’t say anything out loud; there was no reason. That evening, they flirted throughout dinner, talking about everything but Simmons. By the time dinner was over, they weren’t in the mood to bother doing more than toss the dirty dishes in the sink before they hurried, kissing and removing clothes as they went, to their bedroom. 

The next morning, as she pulled on a leather jacket, Laura continued the conversation they’d finally begun shortly after waking. She did everything she could to try to convince Rafael that she needed to join her team in the hunt for the creep who was stalking her. 

“Why are we even talking about this? This is my job. It’s dangerous. That’s just how it is.“

“_Te amo, Laura, pero lo juro vas a ser mi muerte,”_[3] Rafael muttered, shaking his head.

She tried another tack. “I’m the one he’s looking for, Rafael. They need me to…”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what they need. You are not leaving this house.” Laura had never heard the steel growl Rafael used. She blinked in surprise.

“So, what? I’m a prisoner now?” She asked.

“If that’s what it takes.” He looked her straight in the eyes.

“What?”

Rafael stepped closer to her. He spoke in his usual rapid-fire manner, his voice low and serious. “Laura, you are my wife. Your life is more important to me than my own, and I am going to protect you, no matter how angry you get at me. I will charge you with a crime if I have to, get you locked up where every cop in the city can watch out for you. If you turn this into a battle of wills, you’ll find out you aren’t actually the stubborn one in this marriage.” 

Laura stared. She’d seen him in this mood before, although it wasn’t usually directed at her. It was useless to argue. She’d seen the best defense lawyers in New York try. She sighed and took her jacket back off. 

He started to say something, but Laura did not want to hear “Good girl.” Or anything like it. She cut him off.

“If you speak, I will taze you,” she said. Rafael stifled a smile. 

She was restless and hated what felt to her like making the rest of the team fight her battles. But there was something deeply sexy about Rafael’s masculine protectiveness. His absolute demand that she stay safe made her feel loved and precious to him. Even in this lousy situation, he managed to give her new reasons to love him.

Laura paced around the apartment, checking her phone every minute. She knew Rafael was only pretending to work, watching and waiting to see if she would try to leave the apartment. As she was looking at her phone for the millionth time that morning, there was a knock on the door. 

She stood at the end of the short hall, gun in hand, as Rafael looked out the peephole.

“It’s Liv,” he said, opening the door.

Olivia stepped in while Laura holstered her gun.

“Something’s happened.” Rafael said.

“Yeah. You guys are gonna want to pack.”

“What’s he done?” Laura asked, moving a step closer. 

“His car’s outside. With a body in it.”

“Outside.” Rafael looked at Laura, then back to Olivia. “Outside here? This building?”

“Yeah.”

Laura gasped. “How the hell does he know where we live?”

“Come on, He knows everything about you. And now he’s killed a woman.”

“What woman?” Rafael’s voice was hard.

“One that looks enough like your wife to be her twin.”

“Fuck packing. We’re out of here now.” 

“Rafa,” Olivia said, “You might as well take the time to pack. Right now there’s just me and Fin. In two minutes, there’s gonna be a hundred cops outside. Take your time. Call me when you’re ready, and we’ll get you to your car.”

An hour later, the CSU techs had checked Rafael and Laura’s car and found no sign of incendiary devices or tampering with the engine or brakes. With their luggage hastily tossed in the back, Rafael drove out of the parking garage, out of the neighborhood, and out of the city. With each mile, they both felt better. Laura wanted to be working with her squad to catch Simmons, but she could feel Rafael’s anxiety melting away, which mattered more to her. 

“Any idea where we’re going?” She asked as they emerged from the Lincoln Tunnel into the New Jersey sunshine.

“Where would you like to go, _mi amor_?[4] The beach? The mountains? North? South?”

“Trenton.”

“Trenton!?” 

“Yeah. Trenton. That way, there’s no reason to go out. We’ll just stay in our hotel room and I can have my way with you 24/7 until they catch Simmons.”

Laura enjoyed the first real laugh she’d heard from Rafael in a long time. “Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s go somewhere wonderful. We can still just stay in our hotel room and you can have your way with me 24/7. For as long as you want.” The look he gave her shot jolts of electricity through her.

“Deal. You do realize you’re hot as hell, right?”

Rafael just smiled. 

That evening, Rafael and Laura lay on the floor of a small but luxurious cabin in the Poconos, not far from where they’d spent their honeymoon. They cuddled together in a nest of blankets and pillows they’d made in front of the fireplace. 

“You know the cliché about a bearskin rug in front of the fire? No one ever tells you the bearskin rug is to cushion your spine from the floor,” Rafael mumbled. His voice made a pleasant rumble in his bare chest where her head rested on it. 

“Pro tip. When your wife rocks your world in front of a roaring fire, it’s very unromantic to complain about how hard the floor is.” 

“Sorry.” 

“But as long as we’re being honest, it is a little cold down here. How about we get in bed and you can rock _my_ world?” 

“Again? If I’d known you were so demanding, I’d never have married you.”

“Oh, there is so much wrong with that statement. First, you did know how demanding I am. Second, you love how demanding I am. Third, you would still have married me, because you’re hopelessly in love with me.”

“Guilty. On all counts.” He tightened his arms around her and kissed her on top of her head, then stood up and helped her to her feet.

They were awakened somewhere near dawn by a muted crash. Both Rafael and Laura immediately woke, even from their sated, exhausted sleep. They sprang apart, leapt from bed and hastily pulled on the closest clothes. Laura signaled Rafael for quiet. Taking her Glock from the bedside table, she flipped off the safety and stepped to him, whispering in his ear. 

“Go in the bathroom and lock the door. Call for help. Don’t open the door, no matter what you hear,” she hissed. 

“I’m not gonna let you-“

“_Hazlo!_”[5] She whispered harshly. “I need to know you’re safe, so I can concentrate on him.” She stepped, barefoot and silent, toward the other room of the cabin, pulling the door nearly closed behind her.

She peered around the cabin’s greatroom, but didn’t see anything out of place. She slid her back along the wall toward the door as quietly as she could, intending to surprise Simmons when he tried to get in. She guessed that the sound that had awakened them was Simmons breaking a pane on the front door of the cabin, so she looked for movement there. She didn’t see any. When she was as close as she intended to get to the door, she stopped moving and waited. 

She didn’t wait long. As she stood against the wall, weapon aimed at the floor, looking toward the door, she heard a sound to her left and turned to see Art Simmons swinging a baseball bat at her. She had just enough time to turn to the side and put her arm up, which prevented the bat from hitting her head, but she was still knocked off her feet by the force of the blow. She uttered a loud grunt as her impact with the floor struck the Glock from her hand, It went skittering along the pine flooring. 

Simmons roared as he lifted the bat over his head and brought it crashing down on the spot where Laura had been the instant before. She rolled toward him, using her weight against his ankles to unbalance him. He moved his feet to regain his balance, giving her the opportunity to grab his left leg as he shifted his weight to his right. He slammed to the ground with a yell. 

“You fucking bitch!”

Simmons rolled to his knees as Laura scuttled away from him. He pulled a jagged hunting knife from a sheath on his belt. 

“I told you I was gonna rip you apart! I loved you!” 

He threw himself at her, knife held in his fist, and there wasn’t enough room between him and the wall to evade him completely. He landed on her right leg, which still left her able to kick viciously at his face with her left. He twisted his neck to avoid most of the force, and grabbed her ankle to pull her toward him, using his knife hand on the floor to lift himself further onto her. Again he raised the knife, this time able to use his weight to keep her from pulling away from him. She reached up, grabbing his forearm with both hands to hold the knife away from her. She screamed wordlessly with the effort of pushing with all the strength she had in both arms to keep him from burying the knife in her chest.

“I know that man is here, you cheating whore. I don’t care about him. He’s nothing to us. It’s you! You just won’t love me! Why are you so cold?” He began to cry as he continued to pull down on his arm, trying to stab her with the wicked blade. 

She tried to twist the knife out of his hand, but he was much stronger than she was, with wrists as thick as her forearms. The knife moved ever closer to her chest as she tried to kick her legs free from under him. 

“He can’t have you!” Simmons sobbed. “You’re making me kill you! It’s the only way to make you mine forever! And then I’ll do myself, and we can be together.” 

He suddenly yanked his knife arm up, hard, pulling it out of Laura’s hands. She was surprised, but used his movement to pull her left leg out from under him, bending her knee and pushing as hard as she could against his abdomen with her foot to get him off of her. As he was reared up, preparing to thrust the knife down into her chest, a blast thundered through the room and he went still.

For a split second, Laura couldn’t figure out what was happening, but when he began to fall toward her, she used her leg and her arms to shove him away from her with all her strength. He fell to the floor, limp and heavy, and didn’t move. In the dim light, she first saw the pool of blood begin to spread beneath his head, then focused on the ragged hole above his left eyebrow. 

She rolled over onto her elbows, gasping from exertion, and looked back toward the bedroom door to see Rafael standing there, still holding her Glock aimed at Simmons. For a long moment, they simply stared, openmouthed, at one another, both panting. 

“_¿Estas bien?_”[6] He asked quietly.

“_Sí. ¿Tú?_”[7] 

“_No se._”[8]

Laura got to her feet as Rafael flipped on the safety of the gun and set it quickly onto the heavy oak table in the kitchen area of the room as though he couldn’t get rid of it fast enough. They rushed to clasp each other, beginning to dimly hear sirens in the distance. 

“He was going to kill you.”

“Not with you around.”

“Laura…” Rafael crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair. 

“It’s OK, _mi amor_, it’s OK…”

They were both beginning to shake now that the surges of adrenaline had stopped. They stood holding one another, waiting for whoever belonged to the approaching sirens.

“I had to shoot him.” Rafael murmured.

“Yes. You did. He would’ve killed me.”

“We’re messing up the evidence, you know. I’m getting gunshot residue on you.”

“Hold me anyway,” she whispered, tightening her arms around him. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

“It was my turn.”

Soon, the crunch of tires on the gravel and flashes of red and white light announced the arrival of at least two police cruisers. Still holding Laura’s hand, Rafael led her around Simmons’s body to the door, and turned on the lights. He opened the door, but they didn’t step out.

“Nobody’s armed,” he called. “We’re coming out.”

Slowly, hands first, Rafael and then Laura stepped out onto the porch to see three Pocono Mountain Regional Police cruisers and six officers, guns drawn, fanned across the front of the cabin. 

“Is the intruder still inside?” One of the officers called to them.

“Yes,” Laura called back, “But he’s dead.”

All six officers stood up from their defensive positions behind cars and car doors, holstering their weapons. The one who had spoken stepped around the front of his cruiser and up onto the porch. He looked Rafael and Laura over, noting a few smears of blood on her.

“Weapon’s on the table,” Rafael told him. 

“All right, you two step over here while we take a look.” The officer indicated the end of the porch, away from the door. “You sure he’s dead?”

“We’re sure,” Rafael answered. 

They moved to the side of the porch, putting an arm around one another where they stood. As several of the officers entered the house, Rafael noticed that the planks of the porch were cold on his bare feet, and the night air raised goosflesh on his bare chest. Laura was also barefoot, wearing only his T-shirt over a pair of flannel pants. Two of the officers stepped over to them as the others began their work inside.

“Are we waiting for a crime scene unit?” Rafael asked. “It’s cold out here and we could use some more clothes if you need us to stay outside.”

“Let’s give the Sarge a minute inside, and we’ll see what we can do. So, what happened here tonight?” 

So began a long process that lasted well into the morning. Olivia and Fin arrived shortly after sunrise to find Rafael, now fully dressed, being questioned on the couch in the greatroom of the cabin. Laura, still barefoot, but now wearing jeans and a sweater that obviously belonged to Rafael, was sitting in a rocking chair in the bedroom giving her statement. Both looked composed, although Rafael’s mouth was set in a grim line and he was slouched down. Olivia wasn’t surprised. Rafael had never had to kill anyone before. She knew well the feelings that came with even the most righteous of shootings. She made a mental note to make sure he took the necessary steps to work through it.

Simmons’s body was still there, undisturbed since the shooting. They were still waiting for a Pennsylvania state crime scene team to arrive. Olivia guessed that the paper bags sealed with evidence tape on the table contained the clothes Laura and Rafael had been wearing when the shooting occurred.

Olivia quickly identified the officer in charge of the scene and introduced herself and Fin, explaining that this was the culmination of a case her unit had been working. Once the introductions were accomplished, Fin went into the bedroom to Laura, who hugged him long and hard. He knew she and Rafael couldn’t be questioned together, and he also knew she would be needing some support right now. He knew better than most what lay beneath her tough façade. In her place, he would have appreciated her silent presence, too. So he simply stood next to her as a local detective continued to take her statement.

“So what was this guy’s beef with you?”

“I arrested him on suspicion of a rape about six months ago. He wasn’t our doer, but he became fixated on me. I started to see him, hanging around the station house and the courthouse. For the last two months, he’s been outside the station almost every day. He’s also been in the courtroom every time I’ve had to testify. I have no idea how he knew when that would be, but there he was.”

“Did he talk to you?”

“Not at first. But about a month and a half ago, he started sending me things. Flowers, with creepy messages about how he loved me. The next time I saw him outside the station, I confronted him. He acted like he was terrified of me, and ran away. But he didn’t stop. He started sending more presents to the station; candy, balloons, jewelry; always with a creepy message, but not threatening until the last couple of weeks. The messages started to be accusatory. ‘You’re cheating on me’, ‘why won’t you love me’, that kind of thing. And then, last week, he went completely off the rails.”

She explained the last few incidents.

“How did he find you here?” The detective asked.

“Good question. We figure he must’ve put a GPS tracker on our car. He’s a weird mix of crazy and smart. He’s no criminal mastermind, but he had some surprisingly good stalker skills.” 

“Our crime scene team will check your car when they get here. If there’s a tracking device, we’ll need to impound it.”

“You said the lights weren’t on.” The officer in charge asked Rafael. “How’d you drill the guy with a perfect head shot in the dark?”

“Look around. This cabin is tiny. I was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. Look where the body is. That’s, what? Five feet? Not much of a shot.”

“You have firearms training?”

“Depends how you define training. I’m married to a cop who keeps a firearm. Our jobs, we make enemies. So we joined a gun club and I learned to shoot. We have a standing date once a month when we go for target practice.”

Eventually, the crime scene van arrived and did the expected tests and examinations of Rafael and Laura. They photographed Laura’s minor injuries and tested their hands for gunshot residue. At last, they were free to go, although the police impounded Rafael and Laura’s car which had, in fact, been fit with a GPS tracker. 

The four New Yorkers wearily piled into the squad car Olivia and Fin had arrived in. None of them expected any trouble to come out of the shooting. 

Rafael lay at an angle across the back seat, with Laura lying against him, their arms around each other. She looked up at him.

“You OK?”

He frowned. “I think so. I guess we’ll see. Life with you isn’t going to be boring, is it?”

“Right this minute, I could use a little boring.” With that, she laid her head back down on his chest.

Fin, who usually drove because he was a terrible passenger, was the only one still awake when they reached the New Jersey border. 

[1] Fuck!

[2] I love you.

[3] I love you, Laura, but I swear you’re going to be the death of me.

[4] My love

[5] Do it!

[6] Are you OK?

[7] Yes. You?

[8] I don’t know.


	50. Holding Your Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba's wife has been gravely injured and he tries to deal with it as best he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ************** NOTE:**   
**This is one of the endings to this story. But there will a few more chapters, which can be considered an alternate ending. After you read this chapter, PLEASE read the note afterward to decide whether you would like to read on. **************

It was bizarre to Rafael that a place could be both hectic and dull at the same time. He couldn’t understand how he could possibly be both terrified and bored. He hated every slowly crawling second in this crowded, dingy waiting room, useless, out of his mind with fear for Laura, and unable to do a damn thing to help her. He wished he could scream and throw every piece of crappy furniture in the room through the dirty windows. He also wished he could crawl under the plastic couch he was sitting on, curl up in the fetal position and cry. Instead, he did what he had been doing for the past – what, week? He sat looking at his shoes, trying to tune out all the sharp sounds jangling his strained psyche. Every time a phone rang or an announcement came over the PA system, lightning shot through every nerve in his body.

Olivia came and sat next to him. “You know,” she said with attempted lightheartedness, “I think this is the worst I’ve ever seen you look.”

“Oh, good. It’s the worst I’ve ever felt. I like symmetry.”

“Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

“Hell no. I’m so strung out now I’m gonna fly apart any minute.” He sighed heavily. “Either that or implode. I haven’t decided yet.”

She simply sat quietly next to him as they waited. Hours passed.

Finally, mercifully, an older black man in surgical scrubs pushed tiredly through the double doors separating the waiting room from the surgical and recovery suites beyond. He called for the Parker family. Three quarters of the room stood and stepped toward him. 

A group of about thirty cops and firefighters gathered around the surgeon, naturally moving so that Rafael and Olivia were positioned face to face with him. “You family?” He asked, looking around at the uniforms and badges.

“We are,” Olivia said firmly. 

He clearly knew first responders. He asked no questions and didn’t hesitate. “Well, the Detective’s out of surgery, and she’s stable for the moment. She got incredibly lucky, in one sense. The bullet barely grazed the brain. I’m not expecting any trouble there.” His voice lowered an octave. “But that’s the good news.”

“And the bad news?” Rafael’s voice cracked as he asked the question he did not want the answer to. Olivia put an arm around him.

“The brain is surrounded by layers of lining, with fluid in between, right? It’s like a cushion between the brain and the skull. Well, the bullet tore the hell out of those layers of lining as it passed through. That’s what took so long, repairing that damage.”

“But you were able to repair it?” Olivia asked anxiously.

“Yes, I was. But the brain really doesn’t like to be disturbed. When it is, its reaction is to swell. And that’s the problem. Detective Parker’s brain has suffered significant trauma. And it’s already beginning to swell. The skull is a limited space. It’s bone. It can’t stretch. So if there is enough swelling, her brain will begin to be squeezed against the skull, which damages it. And if there is too much swelling, it can cause… catastrophic damage.” 

“Catastrophic damage,” Olivia repeated, looking intensely into the surgeon’s face. She shot a quick look at Rafael. Quietly, she continued. “You’re saying she could die.”

“We’re doing everything we can to minimize the pressure, and we’ll continue to do that. But yes. She could die.”

Rafael looked sick. 

“If we can get her through the next 48 hours, then she can make a full recovery. But I need to be straight with you. If you’re the praying sort, now is the time.”

The assembled cops and firefighters mumbled thanks to the surgeon as he turned to go.

“I need to see her.” Raphael managed to croak around the painful constriction in his throat. He was pretty sure he was going to vomit sometime in the next few minutes. 

The surgeon turned to him. In a voice that conveyed his kindness and his understanding of the depth of Rafael’s pain, he answered, “We’ll be moving her to ICU. As soon as she’s settled, someone will take you to the waiting room up there. As long as she’s stable, we’ll see.” He turned and disappeared through the double doors. 

Now that Laura was out of surgery, some of those assembled in the waiting room had to get home to their families, or back on duty. With muted, somber voices, they said their farewells and shuffled out. 

Soon only Rafael, Olivia, Fin, Carisi, and Rollins were left, standing in a tight knot. Rollins said, “So she’s made it through surgery. That’s a start. I gotta believe she’s gonna get through this. She’s tough, you know?”

“Tough as nails, man,” Fin agreed quietly. 

“Look, I know I’m not going to be able to think about anything else tonight, but I gotta get home to the girls. Please, call me if anything changes, will you?”

They all agreed that they would. Rollins hugged Rafael and whispered, “Hang in there. I’ll be praying for her,” before heading down the hall.

Fin, always protective of Olivia, tried to talk her into going home to Noah, but she said she wasn’t ready. “I’ll just stay until she’s settled in ICU,” she said. 

“I’m picking up her parents at the airport when they land,” Carisi said. “I got just enough time to stop by the chapel and say a few hundred Hail Marys before I need to head out. Call me. For anything.”

“Will do,” Fin assured him. Carisi squeezed Rafael’s shoulder before he, too, headed out.

An hour later, Rafael, Olivia, and Fin were ushered up to the ICU waiting room. One of the nurses came briefly out to the waiting room to explain that even the short trip from the recovery ward to ICU had caused a spike in Laura’s intracranial pressure and destabilized her condition to the point that the surgeon could not allow any visitors. He promised that the surgeon, whose name was Dr. Webb, would come to speak with them again when he could. 

Time crawled. After half an hour of total silence, Rafael looked pleadingly over at Olivia, sprawled in a chair across a scarred wooden coffee table from where he sat on another plastic couch. 

“How am I… What am I supposed to do if…” he began shakily. He couldn’t speak the thought.

Olivia went to sit next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “We’re going to get through this. Together. One step at a time.”

From his chair next to the one Olivia had vacated, Fin said, “I got faith. You gotta have some, too. The man upstairs has got this.” 

Rafael just stared blankly, the tortured look in his red-rimmed eyes tearing at Fin’s heart.

“Hey, counselor, you know you can’t blame yourself for this, don’t you? That asshole with the gun, he’s the one to blame. This is in no way on you.”

Raphael’s features twisted with tired fury. “Bullshit. I’m the one he was coming for. I should be the one in there with a bullet in the head, not her.”

“That’s not how it works. You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us,” Fin replied.

“Fin is right, Rafa. Any one of us would’ve done what she did. It’s the job. And when she wakes up, she’s going to tell you that.” 

The tortured look on Rafael’s face said everything about the hellish fear and guilt that threatened to tear him apart

They heard the swish of the automatic door into the ICU and Dr. Webb entered the waiting room. All three stood up. 

“We got her stabilized, for now. Her pressure’s still climbing, but I’m encouraged by her response to the drugs we’re giving her. Listen, I’m not going anywhere, and she’s in for a long night. I really encourage you folks to go home and get some rest.”

“I need to see my wife.” Rafael said.

“I figured you’d say that. I can let you see her, but when I say ‘see her’ I mean stand in the doorway and look in at her for a moment. That’s it. Any stimulation can increase her intracranial pressure and she’s already got two nurses in there with her.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get,” Rafael quietly assented.

Olivia and Fin waited while Rafael and the surgeon went through the doors into the ICU. Moments later, Rafael was again ushered out into the waiting room. He still looked ravaged, but perhaps a bit less wild with fear.

“How’s she look?” Olivia asked tenderly.

All Rafael said was, “Tiny.”

At that point, Fin took charge, instructing Olivia that he was going to drive her home. Looking at Rafael, he said, “I’m comin’ back. I know there’s no point asking you to go home.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Then give me your keys. I’ll stop by your apartment and pick up a change of clothes for you.” Of all the signs that Rafael wasn’t doing well, the fact that he mutely handed his keys over scared Fin the most. 

When they had gone, Rafael stood staring out the window at nothing. He prayed with an intensity born of terror, dimly hoping that something in his repeated pleas for Laura’s life would get God’s attention. _ “Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo, santificado sea tu nombre…”_[1]

Around midnight, Carisi arrived with Laura’s parents. Carol Parker tearfully enveloped Rafael in a tight hug that he found surprisingly comforting. He quickly caught them up with the events that had occurred after Carisi left to pick them up. They exchanged meaningless chatter about the Parkers’ flight from Illinois, and then Carol announced that she was going in to look at Laura. Rafael mentioned that she might not be allowed to. As she drily told him that she pitied anyone who tried to stop her, she reminded him so much of Laura that he caught his breath and teared up again.

“No disrespect, counselor, but I’ve seen you look better.” Carisi said gently. “She’s in the best hands she could be, and there’s nothing we can do to help. Why don’t you let me drop you off at home?”

“Not gonna happen,” Rafael growled wearily. Carisi didn’t bother to argue. He simply said his goodbyes, muttered some hopeful words, and left for the night.

Rafael and Laura’s father took seats at right angles to eachother around the coffee table. Ed Parker leaned forward, elbows on his knees. If he’d had any doubts about Rafael’s love for Laura, the look on Rafael’s face and the wired exhaustion in his posture would have resolved them. Looking at him, Ed said, “Rafael, you look like crap.”

“So everyone keeps telling me.”

“We’ve been here before, did you know that? Twice.”

“Hmmm?” In his distress and weariness, Rafael wasn’t sure what Ed meant.

“Did Laura ever tell you what finally got her into rehab?”

“She said she had to have emergency surgery. An ulcer.”

Ed rubbed his chin, remembering. “There was a little more to it than that. The ulcer perforated her stomach. She threw up a pretty good amount of her blood volume before they got her to the hospital. And the blood she had left had a potentially lethal level of alcohol in it. When they took her into surgery, the doc told us to prepare ourselves for the worst. So we did. I think that was the darkest moment of my life.”

He paused and sighed. “She was so beat up from drinking, I didn’t know whether she had any fight left in her. And I didn’t know if she had anything left to fight for. But she fought like hell, and she made it. And then she went straight into rehab and fought like hell there. And she got sober.”

Rafael got the message, but didn’t know how to respond.

“You know she was attacked.”

“I know.”

“Well, they said she shouldn’t have survived that, either. But she was absolutely not going to let that asshole win. And she didn’t. You’ve been married for over two years now. You may have noticed my daughter can be stubborn.”

They shared what passed for laughter in the situation.

Ed touched Rafael on the arm to make sure he was listening. “So here’s the thing. I get that Laura’s in trouble, and I understand how serious this is. I’m not kidding myself about where we are. But this time, she has everything to fight with, and everything to fight for. She has you to fight for. I’m not trying to tell you not to be scared. Hell, I’m scared to death. But don’t you give up hope. You said it yourself, in a fight, the smart money’s always gonna be on Laura.”

Rafael smiled weakly. He realized then how glad he was that Laura’s parents were here with him. They were perhaps the only other people who could begin to love her as much as he did. He also realized how fond he had grown of them, and that somewhere over the last two years, he’d formed a bond with Laura’s father. Which is why Ed deserved to know that it was Rafael’s fault his daughter was now fighting for her life. 

“Ed, there’s something you should know. This is my fault. That bullet was meant for me. There was a guy –“

Ed cut him off. “I know what happened. Sonny told us. And I know my daughter. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that she did what she did. If you’re about to apologize, you’d be apologizing for Laura being who she is. And that would just be absurd.”

Rafael could only manage to whisper a strangled, “Thank you.”

Carol returned from seeing Laura. Sometime later, Fin returned with a gym bag that held some clothes and toiletries for Rafael. In his uncomfortable chair, Rafael fell into a grief-induced sleep listening to Laura’s parents and Fin talking in low voices.

The next day passed in an endless drone of bored anxiety, punctuated by visits from friends and coworkers. All the conversations were the same but, really, what was there to say? It felt to Rafael like standing on the edge of a knife poised over a canyon. Standing there hurt like hell, but falling off would be worse. 

The only positive news was that Laura had no further pressure spikes since the initial spike when she was transferred to ICU and, by mid-afternoon, her intracranial pressure had stopped climbing. Dr. Webb said that he was encouraged but, despite Rafael’s relentless efforts, would not revise his prognosis.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barba. I would like nothing better than to give you good news. But I’d be lying to you. There’s hope. She’s holding her own right now, and we are going to continue to do everything possible to get her through this. But her condition is still critical.”

“Doctor, when will we know? I know you said the first 48 hours after surgery were crucial, but… how will we know she’s going to be OK?” Carol’s voice was tearful, but determined.

“When she wakes up, we’ll know,” Dr. Webb answered.

Late in the afternoon, the surgeon returned to update the visitors gathered in the ICU waiting room, which included the entire SVU team. Because Laura’s condition had been stable throughout the day, he said that he would allow one visitor to sit with her for a few minutes. Everyone seemed to naturally turn their eyes to Laura’s mother. 

When she realized it, Carol said, “I know how this is going to sound, but I don’t think it should be me. She needs calm and quiet, and I just…” she had to pause a moment to sniffle. “I don’t think I can go in there and look at my little girl with her head all bandaged, and that horrible monitor in her brain, and…” she couldn’t continue. She collapsed into Ed as he put an arm around her.

“Rafael, you go in. Give her a kiss for us,” Ed told him gruffly, his own emotions dangerously near the surface.

“All of us,” Olivia added.

So Rafael found himself seated next to Laura’s bed, the room as dimly lit as possible with the sliding glass door pulled nearly shut to keep out the noise from the busy nurses’ station just outside. The nurse had told him that he could hold her hand, but to keep their hands still and not to otherwise disturb her. 

He sat, simply looking at her, for a long time. As his eyes became accustomed to the dimness, he took in the bulky, white bandage that completely covered her head, except for her pale, still face. She had deep, dark circles under both eyes. She breathed quietly and shallowly, the rising and falling of her chest barely perceptible under the blankets. The banks of machines surrounding the head of the bed looked to him like the cockpit of an airplane – no, there were too many for that. A spaceship. 

It was obvious how badly hurt she was. Yet Rafael was astounded at how much quieter his mind was, how dulled his fear was, simply because he could see and touch her. He didn’t have to wonder what was happening, because she was right there next to him. So when, after about fifteen minutes, the nurse came to tell him it was time to go back to the waiting room, he simply and quietly refused. 

She tried to convince him, but very quickly saw that he was absolutely uncompromising. He didn’t argue. He politely told her he would not leave Laura, and didn’t move. She left the room, and was quickly replaced by Dr. Webb. The surgeon had been here before. He recognized the situation for what it was – Rafael had no intention of doing anything that would endanger Laura, and no intention of leaving her. It would be useless to argue, and would only risk disturbing his patient. He reviewed the data from the monitors and, reasoning that Rafael’s presence had not caused any negative change in her delicate status, decided that there was no reason to press the issue. He instructed the nurses to let Rafael stay with Laura, as long as she remained stable.

As the afternoon progressed into evening, the nurses noted that Laura’s intracranial pressure had fallen slightly. Her blood pressure had also improved, and her pulse was a bit stronger. Rafael sat quietly, one hand holding Laura’s, the other on the bedrail where he rested his chin on it. He watched her, hour upon hour, as the evening went on. The nurses wondered what he was thinking, but didn’t disturb him as they quietly and efficiently did their work. 

What he was actually doing was trying not to think. He just wanted to be there with Laura, breathing with her, praying for her when he remembered to, and enjoying the occasional memory of something she had said, or something they had done together. Too often, a vision of the moment the night before, when she had thrown herself at him to knock him out of harm’s way, intruded into his thoughts. He saw her, again and again, register the movement of the shooter as he stood from his hiding place to fire at Rafael. He heard her shout, felt her weight crash into him, relived the horrible moment when he reacted to the fall and she did not. Saw her limp form, too much blood already pooling around her head. The overwhelming pain of those intrusive images sickened him. Only knowing that he needed to be quiet for her kept him from groaning out loud. He could not even begin to touch the bottomless pool of guilt that threatened every moment to engulf him.

As midnight neared he sat, eyes staring unseeing at her hand in his, their wedding rings touching. He again thought back to her lying there on the ground. He winced. He relived the frantic scene as the paramedics worked on her, and the seemingly eternal ambulance ride to Mercy Hospital. At the edge of consciousness, he caught a faint, breathy groan, like a sleeper reluctantly awakening with a colossal hangover. He looked, startled to see Laura’s eyes drowsily looking back at him. Her expression was confused, sluggish.

“You look terrible,” she whispered hoarsely.

Rafael burst into tears, even as he laughed. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it fiercely.

“Hi,” he finally managed.

“Hi.” She replied in the same hoarse, tired whisper. Her brow furrowed. “Did I get beat up again?”

“You got shot.”

Her eyes widened in drowsy surprise. “Huh. That’s a new one. Where?”

She moved as if checking herself, then grimaced in pain and put her hand to her head. “Oh. Found it.”

Rafael smiled through his tears. “The doctor says you’re going to be fine,” he said, kissing her hand again where it was still clasped to his lips. 

“That’s nice,” she murmured groggily, her eyes beginning to close again.

“I need to tell them you’re awake.”

“OK,” she sighed.

While Dr. Webb and the staff checked on Laura, Rafael went to the waiting room to tell Laura’s parents and the squad, all of whom were there, the news that she had awoken. There were more tears at this joyful news than any of them had allowed themselves during the crisis.

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Webb came out to the waiting room. They all crowded around him. “I’ve done a number of tests, and Detective Parker appears to be entirely neurologically intact. I’m confident that, barring any unforeseen events, she is going to make a full recovery.” More tears flowed and Carol actually hugged Dr. Webb. 

“What she needs now is rest. Her body needs a chance to heal itself. What I normally say at this point is that you all need to go home and no visitors until tomorrow. And I am going to say that. But first, she is insisting – no, she’s demanding – to see her husband for a few minutes. I shouldn’t allow it, but she says if I don’t, she will get up and come out to him. I believe her.”

This threat, so typical of Laura, caused the room to erupt in relieved laughter. 

Rafael followed Dr. Webb back into Laura’s room. Laura smiled sleepily and held a hand out to him. He sat down next to her bed, holding her hand in both of his. Tears were running down his cheeks.

“I don’t remember anything. But I can guess what happened,” she murmured weakly.

A curtain of pain fell over Rafael’s face. He looked down at their clasped hands. In an anguished voice he asked, “How many times are you going to get between me and a bullet?”

“Every time,” she whispered.

He shook his head and couldn’t look at her. “Damn it, Laura,” he whispered.

“_Amor_[2], look at me,” she finally mumbled. Willing himself to comply, he dragged his eyes back to look into hers.

“It’s your fault I love you. But this? My choice. Not your fault.” She briefly winced in pain, and again had to rest a moment before continuing in her weak, scratchy whisper. “Got it?” 

“You’re telling me you chose to get shot?”

“Wasn’t exactly Plan A.” She gave a weak laugh. “But rather me than you.”

“Not to me. I would much rather get shot than see you like this,” he responded, his voice serious and full of love.

“Tough luck. I got better reflexes.” 

They smiled at one another for a moment before she continued.

“Need a favor,” she whispered, becoming exhausted from the effort of speaking.

“Anything.”

“Imma crawl back under this morphine. Sleep for a long time.” She had to rest again, eyes closed. She grimaced and gave a feeble groan.

“That’s an excellent plan. What do you need me to do for you?”

“Go home. Sleep too. Else I’ll worry ‘bout you. Won’t enjoy my narcotics.” 

He closed his eyes for a moment and hung his head wearily, occasional tears still streaking his cheeks. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“_Hazlo_.”[3]

“I’m leaving your parents here with you.”

“Don’t make me negotiate. Got shot in the head.”

He looked up at her again, chuckling and crying at the same time. “There’s no negotiation here. I’ll go home, but I’m leaving your parents here with you. And I’m calling my _Mami_.”

She smiled tiredly, already beginning to doze. “OK. _Te amo_,[4] Rafael.” Her voice trailed to a barely audible whisper as she fell asleep saying his name.

He took his time, simply looking at her. Then he leaned over and placed the softest of kisses on her lips. “_Te amo. Dios, cómo te amo._”[5]

******

Lying between Rafael’s legs with her back against his chest, Laura laughed at a cheesy line spoken by a macho spy type to the woman he was trying to seduce. She was getting very tired of the hospital, but at least she was in a regular room now, where she and Rafael could be snuggled together as they watched movies, or talked, or read. She could feel him playing with the ends of the beautiful new scarf Lucia had given her to wrap around her head. 

“As many hats and scarves as your _mami_ has given me, either she really hates my shaved head or she wishes she’d have had a girl to dress up.”

“Neither. She just loves you. She wants to spoil you.”

The raw emotion was back in Rafael’s voice. The shooting had been much harder on him than it had on her. She wasn’t surprised to feel his arms tighten around her, and didn’t make a sound when he squeezed her hard enough to make her head hurt. When his embrace loosened, she maneuvered herself around so that she was still laying on his chest but could see his face, and wiped a tear from his cheek. 

“It’s OK, _amado_,[6]” she whispered. “I’m right here. I’m fine.”

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he said, for the thousandth time since she’d been shot six days before.

“I know. But I’m not going anywhere. Haven’t you figured that out by now? I would’ve thought when we got married, that would be a clue.”

Rafael leaned his head down to hers, closing his eyes and saying yet another prayer of thanks.

Laura reassured him again that she was all right, and the mood passed as quickly as it had come over him, the way it always did. The trauma counselor had said that this was the way it would be for him for a while, until he’d fully processed what had happened. The counselor had also said that exactly what they were doing – being together doing normal things, and reassuring him as often as he needed it – was all it would take.

“Have I told you lately how happy I am?” Laura asked. “And how much I love being married to you?

“I actually have some time, if you’d care to tell me now.”

“Well, buckle up, Harvard, because it’s a lot.”

Laura turned off the movie and spent a long time telling Rafael all the things she loved about him, and their life together, even though she was well aware that he already knew. He didn’t mind hearing it again. And when she was done, he made her laugh, even while she cried a few tears of overflowing happiness, by laying out a quite logical, well-constructed, and entirely convincing argument why he, in fact, was more in love, and the happier spouse. After that, they lay cuddling in the dark, dreaming dreams together, and devising plans for making them all come true.

[1] Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…

[2] Love

[3] Do it.

[4] I love you.

[5] I love you. God, how I love you.

[6] Beloved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT ***** IMPORTANT ***** IMPORTANT******
> 
> **This is the end of the story – a (YAY!) happy ending for Rafael and Laura. I wrote it that way because I freaking ADORE Rafael Barba. I also really like you guys. I appreciate your reading this and supporting me while I wrote it more than I can say.**
> 
> **Please, if this is the ending you want, the only one you can live with, consider this that happy ending. Because it is. The whole reason I wrote this chapter the way I did is so we get this ending. (Because I want it, too.)**
> 
> **But you’re going to notice that there are more chapters. Here’s the thing. I don’t want my friends coming after me with pitchforks and torches. This can be the ending. Or the rest of the chapters can be the ending. Or, this story can have alternate endings. IT’S YOUR CHOICE. I absolutely do not want to upset or disappoint my fellow members of Team Rafael. That’s why I’m including this note at the risk of being kind of a major spoiler. PLEASE DO NOT READ THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS AND THEN FLAME ME BECAUSE YOU CAN’T LIVE WITH ANY ENDING OTHER THAN THIS ONE. Please stop here, with my deepest thanks for reading and letting me know you were here. **
> 
> **If you are OK with considering a different ending, and choose to read on, great! I promise a happy ending, just a different happy ending. **


	51. Adrift In The Wasteland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafael Barba gets three members of a hate group convicted, with the worst possible results. His wife's reaction is to simply disappear in plain sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *************** Important Note ******************
> 
> **Just a reminder: The happy ending for Rafael and Laura was in the last chapter. If you can’t live with a different ending, please accept my most sincere thanks for reading and take my advice: don’t read further. **
> 
> *************************************

Rafael took a long, satisfying drink of coffee that was probably a little hotter than was good for him, but he didn’t want to wait. He felt good. He’d just won a trial that was the beginning of the end for a hate group that had intended to bomb the Mayor’s office. The three defendants he’d tried were all going to prison for years, which did not bode well for the other five people indicted in connection with the plot. It wasn’t the whole group, but it was a start.

He had to smile to himself, now that this first trial was successfully over. He would never have admitted it, but he’d been concerned about what Laura would say if he botched a trial based on evidence it had taken her and Carisi a month undercover to gather. Of course, the FBI’s Joint Terrorism Task Force had been working on the case for much, much longer. But he wasn’t concerned about answering to the Joint Terrorism Task Force.

Rafael had never liked Laura going undercover. It was dangerous, unpredictable work without a net. He trusted her ability to think on her feet and defend herself if she had to – which she had, on more than one occasion. But he didn’t trust the situations the detectives put themselves into, and he damn sure didn’t trust the suspects.

But this assignment – working with the Joint Terrorism Task Force – had been by far the worst. He had hated the danger to her, he had hated their inability to communicate and, if he was being honest, he had hated having their home life disrupted. He didn’t mind long, irregular hours. He did mind sleeping alone for weeks at a time. 

That actually caused him to smile into his coffee cup even more than he already had been. There had been a time when sleeping alone had been a point of pride with him. Now, after celebrating three anniversaries with Laura, he barely recognized his life or his priorities, and he wondered how he had survived the long, lonely years before she came into his life. That thought reminded him of the time, over a year ago now, when he had thought he would lose her to a bullet aimed at him. Once her hair had grown back, she hadn’t thought much about it. But he had. The anguish he’d felt then was a big part of why he had such a hard time when she went undercover now.

At least this assignment was over. He remembered the night she had come home. He had been laying on their bed, still in his dress shirt and slacks, reviewing reports on the case while Laura took a shower. He had just begun to feel the weight of responsibility for getting indictments and convictions after all the investigative work. But as Laura came out of the bathroom, her hair freshly dried and a short, silky robe loosely tied around her waist, he decided that responsibility could definitely wait at least another night. From her mischievous grin, and the way she crawled onto the bed and began kissing him, she’d missed him as much as he’d missed her.

“Let’s never do that again,” he said against her lips as he pulled the robe from her body.

“Amen,” she agreed.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.” 

“Then why aren’t you helping me get these clothes off of you? I can’t get you naked fast enough…”

“We’ve been over this.”

“I swear, Harvard, if you say the word ‘structure’, I will…”

“Yes?” The smirk on his face was as enticing, and had the same effect on her, as the very first day they’d met.

“Probably do whatever you ask me to,” she sighed, smiling up at him. “Like always.”

Carmen came into Rafael’s office with a package, interrupting a very nice memory of what had happened afterward. 

“This was just hand-delivered,” she said, holding the box out to him. “It’s heavy.”

Curious, Rafael took the package from her and began to open it. Carmen stayed by his desk, just to see what was inside.

They never felt a thing when it exploded.

***********

When Fin was very small, his Gran had lived in a building in the projects. He’d loved that building. He’d been too young to even see that the building was a ruin; to him, the building was a place where his Moms knew everyone and they all loved him, and where his Gran waited to spoil him with baking and overflowing love. And then, in the first tragedy of his young life, his Gran had died and, shortly thereafter, the building had been condemned. He’d watched in horrified fascination as the building had been gutted, first emptied of his Gran and all the people who had always smiled at him and made him feel welcome, then stripped of everything of any value. It had become an empty, sad, unbearably lonely shell echoing with the sounds of the lives that had once been lived there.

That building was the only thing Fin could think of that remotely came close to the way Laura looked. Her expression had been one of stunned horror since that very first, cursed moment in Liv’s office, and that hadn’t changed. But now there was absolutely nothing behind her eyes. He felt sure that if he could look inside of her, she’d be entirely hollow. Maybe with a freezing cold wind blowing a few scattered ashes around. Laura Parker was gone. She’d just… flickered out. He had watched it happen the moment she had finally accepted that Olivia was telling her the truth about the bombing. 

And Rafael’s death.

Fin hated hysterics. He was the first to run the other way when someone got emotional. Especially when he, himself, was also feeling the full weight of that emotion. But now, today, he would have given everything he had to see his partner shed even one tear or, better yet, fly into a howling, sobbing, keening lamentation with an all-engulfing tsunami of tears. He wanted her to scream and rage and destroy things, hurl vile words and swear vengeance. Or even just weep a little. He just wanted her to do anything to let him know that she was still in there somewhere. 

As it was, it looked like the squad had lost both of them. Rafael was dead, and Laura was… gone. 

Fin was the only one who could get near her. With anyone else, _everyone _else, she was grim and silent, just gazing through them with that lost, broken stare, as though they were ghosts. Or she was. Only Fin could get a response from her, whispered and vague though it might be. She would say ‘yes’, or ‘no’, or ‘OK’. ‘I don’t know’ was beyond her; even saying that many words was too much effort. If he asked her something she couldn’t answer, she just remained silent, looking confused and indescribably lonely. 

He had absolutely no fucking idea what he was supposed to do. Fin had thought that, once they’d become desperate enough to fly him out for a day, Dr. Charles would take over. He was the trauma expert. He was her psychiatrist. He was the one who had helped her reclaim herself after she’d endured an attack so vicious and devastating she still had night terrors as a result. Nothing. She hadn’t seen or heard Dr. Charles any more than she could see or hear her parents, or her brothers, or her friends. The best that Dr. Charles had been able to tell them was that there was a name for her condition – catatonia – and that she would probably find her way back. Probably. 

In the meantime, the people who loved her kept her alive. They put food into her hand and told her to eat it. They held articles of clothing up to her and told her to put them on. Her mother led her into the shower and bathed her. They led her to her bed and told her to lie down. She would stare blindly at the ceiling until, at some point, her body’s basic needs would take over and she would sleep. 

The only time she was remotely responsive was when she was asleep, and her family could only imagine what kind of hellscape she was responding to then. She moaned and thrashed, called out in terror, and would eventually wake herself up with her screams. 

For whatever reason, that was the part that her older brother Steve found absolutely intolerable. He refused to leave her alone at night, and had moved into her apartment with her rather than stay in a hotel, as originally planned. Once he did, the rest of the family followed suit. It was the first time in many years that all five of them had lived together. Steve slept in a chair next to his little sister’s bed, ready to spring up whenever she screamed, which happened several times a night. When it did, he talked to her until she was calm enough to lay back down. Even as she shouted and screamed through the nightmares, she never said a word. And even then, she didn’t cry.

*************** 

The bomb had damaged two floors of the D.A.’s office building at One Hogan Place. It was a miracle there had been only two deaths, although quite a few people had been injured, some of them severely. All of them were expected to survive. Only Rafael and Carmen had not. 

The FBI combed the wreckage and gathered evidence, although everyone knew who was responsible for the explosion. The remaining members of the group had decided to go through with the bombing, they’d just chosen a different target.

Randolph had pushed the plan to bomb Barba’s office, and he got wood every time he thought about it. Not only did they get rid of him, but they had also struck back at Kevin and Susie White – apparently really some fucking NYPD detectives named Carisi and Parker. Randolph very much enjoyed thinking about their pain at losing their husband and friend. 

So far, Randolph had been able to keep entirely under the radar. No one in law enforcement had any idea he was the group’s leader. Most people in the group didn’t even know that. 

********

“It’s fucked up, Pete. She just sits there. Doesn’t do anything, doesn’t talk. Except when she’s screaming at night, of course, which is the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever seen.”

Carol Parker looked up from what she was doing in the kitchen. “Steven, I don’t disagree with you, but can we please have a little variation in descriptions?”

“Sorry, Mom, but damn!”

Carol gave Steve a sympathetic look. This was a nightmare for all of them and, truth be told, she wouldn’t mind using a few choice descriptions herself. But she knew Peter Stone was having a rough time not being here in New York with Laura, and she didn’t think it would help having Steve’s feverish narration in his head.

“No, still only her partner,” Steve answered whatever Peter had asked. “The doc said they sometimes do that, latch onto one person they trust. But we’re talkin’ about ‘yes’ and ‘no’. It’s not like even he’s gettin’ conversation out of her. Today she, like, touched his arm, and you’d’a thought it was the fuckin’ Second Coming. It was the first spontaneous thing we’ve seen her do. Except, of course, the screaming…”

Steve listened some more. 

“I don’t think so, dude. But don’t feel bad. They tried takin’ her to church, see if that would do something, but apparently she’s not even talkin’ to Jesus right now.” It was a weak joke, but he needed it. 

“So, anyway, I called to tell you the funeral’s Friday. The Moms talked about it, and they have to go ahead, even though my sister’s a fuckin’ zombie. I mean, how long are they supposed to wait?”

At the other end of the phone, Peter asked another question. 

“Who the fuck knows?” Steve answered. “Her partner told her the funeral’s Friday and she said ‘OK’. No way to know whether she even knew what he was talkin’ about.”

Carol could hear a very faint, tinny sound as Peter’s voice came through Steve’s phone as he held it to his ear. 

“I know, right? It’s not like I got to know the guy very well, but he was really cool, and he for sure had her number. I’m still tryin’ to wrap my head around the whole thing. And my sister bein’ a fuckin’ vegetable is _not_ helping.”

There was another pause while Peter said something. 

“Yeah, bro, text me your flight. We’ll pick you up. Just… be ready. It’s hard lookin’ at her like this.” 

*************

Some of her friends had made the oblique suggestion that Lucia Barba should be angry with her daughter-in-law for making her do all the work. Lucia didn’t see it that way. Rafi was hers. Always had been. Although it hurt worse than Lucia had known anything could, she was constantly remembering him as a baby, and a chubby little toddler extraordinarily pleased with himself when he learned to walk, and all through his life where he had been a constant source of comfort and happiness and overwhelming pride. Rafi was hers. They had a huge family, on both her side and Rafi’s father’s, but there had always been an element of the two of them together against the world, even when Mateo had been alive. Of course, Lucia had recognized the sizzling connection between her son and Laura, and the deep love that had even then already begun to grow, and she’d made sure it did. But she hadn’t done it for Laura, much as she liked her. She’d done it for Rafi. Because he was hers and, despite his stubborn insistence that he didn’t, he had wanted a wife. And Lucia had wanted him to have someone to take care of him. Her Rafi. Hers.

So making his funeral arrangements was something that Lucia, and no one else, should be doing. In the three years Rafi and Laura had been married, Lucia had become very close to Laura’s mother, and she appreciated that friendship more than ever right now. Carol understood. She had her own child to worry about, and all she had done was offer – once – to assist with the arrangements on Laura’s behalf. When Lucia had explained that this last opportunity to care for Rafi belonged to her alone, Carol had burst into tears born of her complete understanding. It was how she would feel if one of her own children had died. 

Lucia was, of course, concerned about Laura. But that was a very distant second to the jagged, burning agony of losing Rafi. So she let Carol take care of Laura. One day, when Laura began to be able to tolerate feeling her own loss, she and Lucia would spend all the time in the world grieving together. Their losses had a lot in common; they’d both loved Rafi above all else. But Lucia selfishly appreciated that Laura was staying out of it for a while. Everyone wanted to comfort the widow; she’d be the center of attention. But Lucia knew that her loss was by far the greater.

*************

Rafael’s funeral was held at the church where he was baptized. The church where he had encountered God throughout most of his life, had received all of the sacraments, and had been an altar boy. Lucia had thought about St. Augustine’s, where Rafi had married his Laura and had occasionally attended Mass. But this was Rafi’s spiritual home, and this is where he would have chosen to be committed to his God had anyone known to ask him.

So many people had made the trip to the Bronx for Rafael’s funeral that there was a bit of a panic about there being enough space. But people had crowded together and made it work. Everyone watched Laura, wondering how she would appear. Naturally, one of the main questions people asked one another was how she was holding up. Those who didn’t already know learned from the general hubbub in the church that she wasn’t.

She sat between her mother and Rafael’s, blinking blankly and wearing that same shocked, devastated expression behind the filmy black veil Carol had decided she should wear. Carol wasn’t going to bother with makeup, and she understood the curiosity that would cause everyone to want to get a look at Laura’s face. Because her daughter wasn’t able to protect her own privacy right now, Carol had decided to do it for her by simply reverting to the old-fashioned tactic of having her wear a veil. 

There didn’t seem to be a face in the church that didn’t wear some variation of Laura’s expression, anyway. The SVU squad, Olivia Benson in particular, looked blasted. Captain Tucker kept an arm around Olivia and had armed himself with all the tissues he could fit into the pockets of his suit. Fin didn’t do much to try to hide his tears, and Carisi and Rollins wept openly. Rafael’s friends and colleagues from the D.A.’s office were more discreet about their feelings, but then they had only know Rafael Barba’s prickly, snarky public persona. They had liked and respected him, but he wasn’t family to them as he was to the SVU squad. Rafael’s immense family, men and women alike, wore their grief plainly.

Peter Stone had declined the invitation to sit in the front pew with the family, but had staked out a place two rows behind them, where he could see Laura’s face. He watched her the entire time, a hideous snarl of emotions making him feel sick as it slithered around inside him. What he really wanted to do was go to her, pick her up and carry her away from this disaster, somewhere he could protect and care for her forever. The idea that she was in pain so overwhelming it had shut her down completely broke Peter’s heart. One of the emotions in the snarl was guilt. Guilt that his sorrow for Rafael Barba’s murder could only be that of a near-total stranger being saddened by a tragedy, whereas he felt a towering sorrow for Laura’s loss. He hadn’t been able to hold back tears any more than anyone else at the funeral, but all his tears were for Laura. 

Maggie Lockwood was glad that she had called Peter and arranged for them to fly out together. She was a mess. She hadn’t known Rafael, having met him only once, but she and Laura had been extremely close since they met in Nursing school. Which meant that Maggie had been there when Peter and Laura met, and throughout their whole relationship. She knew Peter very well, and she knew what he must be feeling. It had been a very good idea to be on the same flight, so that they could share their mutual grief for what had happened to Laura. Not that Peter was particularly forthcoming about his feelings, of course, but Maggie didn’t need him to be. She could plainly see that he was as much a mess on the inside as she was on the outside.

Hank Voight had come from Chicago with Trudy Platt and her husband Randall McHolland, along with Kim Burgess and Kevin Atwater. Voight was going to be there for Parker no matter what. While Trudy didn’t love Laura as a daughter the way Voight did, she still felt she had to be there, and Randall – Mouch to his squad – had volunteered to go to represent the firefighters of Station 51. The Intelligence team had all wanted to be there for her, and had settled for pulling together enough money to send Kim and Kevin, who had been closest to Parker. Their grief was evident on all of their faces. 

*****************

It had been an impulse born of cruelty for Randolph to stake out the funeral. He couldn’t help it. He wanted more of the glorious high he got thinking about how much pain he had caused. He wanted more confirmation of his immense power, and the fact that it was his to wield without consequence. He was invisible. Untouchable. And he loved seeing all the tears as people shuffled out of the church. He had especially been eager to see the widow’s grief. He was pissed that the little bitch had worn a veil so he couldn’t see her face, but he got a great deal of satisfaction seeing her being led around like a blind person.

She wasn’t blind. She was bewildered, and terrified, and in agony beyond endurance, but she wasn’t blind. She saw him. Something changed behind her veil.

*******************

The gathering in the hall next to the church was attended by just about everyone who came to the funeral. Lucia had stood alone at the door, a one-woman receiving line, and to her it felt right. Laura was nearby, at a table with her family and a few other people, but in no condition to do anything as complex as receive condolences. When people asked, Lucia tactfully told them that she was having a hard time, and just wasn’t up to talking to anyone. 

The few people who tried to speak to Laura didn’t stay long. They would touch her on the shoulder or the hand and murmur their sympathy but, receiving no acknowledgement, would awkwardly step away. Laura’s family gracefully acknowledged their kindness while she simply sat, looking apparently into oblivion. The family had decided that she should be at the gathering for a little while, so that they could tell her she had been there. After that, Steve and Peter would take her home. 

Until Hank Voight stepped up to her, and she saw him.

At first, she moved so slowly that those at the table didn’t even notice it happening. But as Hank introduced himself to her family, Laura looked up at him. When he leaned down to speak to her, he found that she looked him in the eye. It was perhaps less disconcerting to him than it would have been to anyone who had been with her over the past days, because he was used to her acknowledging him when he spoke to her. But he was aware of her condition and so recognized that something was happening. 

He knelt down on the floor so that he was eye-to-eye with her and waited as she slowly, fumblingly, pulled the veil up from her face. She looked like a wraith, if wraiths themselves could be haunted. 

“Hank,” she rasped. 

“I’m here. I had to be here for you.”

“You could do it. You would help me.”

He had no idea what she meant, but he would do anything for her, so he just looked into her eyes and waited. 

“Randolph. His name is Randolph.”

Hank looked up, scanning the table for a clue. He instantly saw the recognition in Carisi’s face. 

“You know what she’s talking about?”

“Yeah, I do,” Carisi answered, looking around. “Maybe we should… go somewhere.”

Trying to swim back to the surface was painful and frightening for Laura, and it was a difficult, arduous task made more difficult by the fact that she didn’t want to get there. She would much have preferred staying where she’d been, where there was no sound, and no feelings, and she could watch the world from a million miles away. She knew what was waiting for her in that world. But she had to go back, now that she knew who had killed Rafael.


	52. Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the Chicago PD Intelligence detectives help OC Laura Parker find the man that murdered her husband, Rafael Barba.

Sitting in Rafael and Laura’s living room, the assembled cops held a strategy session no one had seen coming. Laura was barely there, but clawing her way back. She had to fight for every word it took to explain what she had seen and what, somewhere in the dark shadows of her mind, she had finally put together. Carisi knew everything she knew about the case. He saw immediately what they’d missed as soon as Laura pointed it out and, from there, he carried the weight of explaining the case to the Chicago detectives. They listened and asked perceptive questions that showed their expertise, as well as their deep desire to do something about what this prick Randolph had done to one of their own. 

Although Lieutenant Benson was there, there was no question that Voight was in charge. Laura had asked him to help her, and everyone in the room knew what that meant. She was not asking for help with clean, within-the-lines police work. Benson was conflicted and, frankly, afraid of what this might lead to, but she was also as enraged as she had ever been about anything. This bastard had killed Rafael. She might not be willing to go to the lengths Voight would, but she was damn well going to hear him out. She also admitted to herself that she could pull her detectives at any time, and still be fairly confident Voight’s team would do what needed to be done without them. Cowardly? False virtue? Maybe. But she didn’t kid herself about what she felt. 

“Listen,” Voight said from his position on the arm of Laura’s chair. “We can get this asshole. From what Carisi just said, there’s gonna be plenty of evidence. He’s been right in front of us the whole time. It’s really just a matter of putting it together a different way. Which means, we do this right, we’re gonna be able to take the whole group down without needing too much more.”

Carisi appreciated Voight’s use of the word “us”, when he could easily have pointed out that it was NYPD and JTTF who had missed Randolph’s role up to now.

Voight took a moment to look into the eyes of everyone sitting in a tight circle on the furniture around him. “So here’s the thing. We’re gonna need to do this right. We go off half-cocked, we may get Randolph, but the group survives. Anybody willing to live with that?”

There was a chorus of negative responses, sprinkled with expletives.

“But it’s not gonna be easy, ‘cuz half of us are out of our jurisdiction and we’re not waiting for the feds. I don’t want them anywhere near this, getting in the way and slowing things down. Liv, how do we make sure whatever we find stands up?”

“I know how,” she responded. “I’ll need to call in a couple of favors, and so will Ed. But there’s never been a better reason. You deal with strategy. We’ll deal with authority.”

Captain Tucker was very deliberately not in the room. He and Olivia both knew that this conversation was likely to be one it was in his best interests, as IAB, not to hear. 

The next morning, all four Chicago detectives were wearing JTTF shields. Just like Carisi and Parker, they’d been temporarily assigned JTTF credentials to take part in this case. Nobody knew what Benson and Tucker had done to make that happen, or to stop JTTF from taking over, and nobody asked. 

Laura had given her bed – her and Rafael’s bed – over to her parents the night before. She was still barely speaking, but as soon as she realized they’d been sleeping on the dreadful hide-a-bed in her couch, she had insisted. She had slept on the couch, with her brothers on the floor nearby. They were planning to return to Chicago the following day to run the business, but their parents were planning to stay until Laura no longer needed them, however long that might be.

Laura realized through the thick fog that still enveloped her that they were all exhausted. Her parents hadn’t even stirred when she’d tiptoed into her bedroom to get clothes and, more telling still, hadn’t heard her tap in the combination to her gun safe, which was on one of the bedside tables.

When she tiptoed out into the living room, Steve was still sound asleep, too. She had a vague memory of him sitting up with her all the nights since… He must need sleep more than anyone. But her younger brother Dan’s eyes were wide open and he was frowning at her, taking in the Glock and the shield at her waist.

“You’ve got to be kidding. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What I have to.”

“How can you be thinking of working right now?”

“Danny…” It took her a long time to form the next sentence. “We’re going to get him.” 

Dan looked at her with sudden understanding.

“Fuck him up,” he answered, his voice full of rage. “I’ll cover you here.”

“Thanks.”

The strategy session took place around the conference table in the SVU squad room. There was a lot to plan. Now that they had figured out the true structure of the group, they had identified several key members who all needed to be taken down simultaneously. There could not be an opportunity for one to learn they’d been identified and warn the others. This group had resources. If they ran, they’d never be found.

Laura was still moving very slowly, so she was about half an hour late to the meeting. As she walked into the squad room, every voice stopped mid-syllable. _What the hell? She buried her husband yesterday and she was like a broken robot. Now, today, she wants to work?_

Olivia stood from the table and was about to say something to that effect, but Voight cut her off. 

“’Morning, Parker. Glad you’re here. We’re gonna need you for this.” His expression defied anyone in the room to challenge him. No one did.

The meeting was a long one. They had to go back over all the evidence and fit it into its proper place in the true picture, now that they had it. Then they had to figure out what else they would need.

Olivia felt bad for the poor ADA. She was briefed on the case, and very quick on the uptake besides. But she was in an impossible position, and she knew it. Every word she said was filtered through, “Is that what Barba would do?” and every member of SVU was comparing her to Barba in everything she did. But she was tough and mad as hell about Barba’s murder. She was glad to be able to be part of getting the assholes who had killed him, so she just shook it off. Besides, the squad needed her. They needed to be sure that what they did would burn the hate group to the ground.

Finally, in the late afternoon, the team had a plan and warrants, and were ready to hit the streets. Platt partnered with Rollins, Burgess with Carisi, and Atwater with Olivia. Each team had a target. Voight kept Laura with him and Fin. They were going after Randolph. 

Each team needed to obtain very specific evidence related to their suspect. Platt and Rollins had both the simplest and most difficult job: they needed to get a confession. Rollins’ impression of Platt was that Platt was probably very, very good at getting those. She was looking forward to seeing her in action. Burgess and Carisi needed something tying their suspect to the bombing. They had a search warrant, and were going to have to hope they found something. But there was a good chance Randolph had helped them there. Because he kept himself so far removed from obvious involvement in the group’s activities, there was a good chance the bomb had been built in the apartment they were going to search. If it was, there would be evidence. After Burgess and Carisi collared their guy, they and the CSU team were in for a long afternoon and evening. Olivia and Atwater had the toughest assignment evidence-wise, because they honestly didn’t know what they were looking for. Literature and other items simply espousing the hate group’s views weren’t enough. Having those things wasn’t illegal and wasn’t enough to tie their guy to the group. So far, all the FBI had on him was witnesses placing him with other group members.

And then there was Randolph. They didn’t even know where he lived. Which meant that Voight and Fin might well be roughing up a couple of people looking for him. Ordinarily, Laura would be right in there with them, but neither Voight nor Fin had any idea what to expect from her today. They could always hope that one of the suspects being rounded up by the other teams would tell them where to find Randolph, but they couldn’t count on that.

Their first stop was a surprisingly upscale tavern. Fin looked around with distaste at the booths with tall backs that went nearly to the ceiling, the upholstered barstools, and the tasteful décor. He wanted to shoot the place up. “Guess hate pays pretty good,” he muttered. 

“Not today,” Voight snarled. 

The bartender made them for cops the moment they walked in. He didn’t even need to see Susie White – or whatever her real name was – bringing up the rear. Voight and Fin bellied up to the bar in front of the bartender. Laura continued around the bar to stand next to him.

“Hey-“ the bartender began to object.

Voight slapped his face around to the front again. “You don’t need to worry about her unless you don’t answer my questions. Where’s Randolph?” 

The guy stood up straighter and crossed his arms. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Voight asked, looking pointedly at Laura. “You know who that is?”

“Yeah, some fuckin’ undercover cop. So?”

“So your friend Randolph killed her husband. What kinda mood you think she’s in? Think she might want a piece a’ you?” 

“She’s a midget,” the bartender scoffed. 

A few seconds later, from where his face was squashed painfully against the floor, the bartender tried to complain. Voight didn’t even look over the bar to see what Laura was doing to him. _I guess she’s not just along for the ride,_ he thought. There were very few people in the bar, and some of those had left hurriedly when the detectives walked in. The rest couldn’t see anything happening behind the bar, and appeared to be trying very hard not to.

“I don’t see anything wrong here,” Voight said calmly. “But if you have a beef, maybe you should think about telling me what I want to know. ‘Cuz you gotta think my friend here’s got some anger issues right about now.”

There was a pain-filled squeak from behind the bar. It was all Fin could do not to stand up on the rail of the bar to see what Laura was doing to the bartender. The bartender continued to whine, getting louder in his protests. Voight and Fin heard Laura growl something too quiet to hear, followed by a thump and a screech. Voight raised an eyebrow at Fin. 

“How about now? Know Randolph now?” Voight asked in that same, nonchalant tone.

The bartender suddenly knew Randolph, but didn’t know where to find him. He did, however, give them the name of someone who would know, and an address. 

“Now, here’s the problem you got,” Voight said to the bartender as he stood up from the floor, flexing his shoulders and rubbing his neck. “You gotta decide whether to call Randolph and tell him we’re coming for him. If you don’t, he’s gonna kill you. If you do, _she’s_ gonna kill you. So let me break this down for you. Your only shot is to keep your mouth shut and hope we nail him, because any other scenario ends with you dead. Understand?”

The bartender understood.

The house in Bay Ridge was nice. It looked like a nice family would live there, rather than the filth that actually did. Voight and Fin planned to simply walk up to the front door. That would work for them, but Randolph knew Laura’s face. They’d had to drop her off a block away so that she could make her way through yards to cover the back of the house. 

The door was opened by a woman who looked like a soccer mom. The smell of something cooking wafted out the door, and she smiled at the detectives. “Hello. Can I help you?”

Fin kept his voice low. He flashed his shield, motioned toward where Voight was doing the same, and said, “You are in a world of hurt, lady. We got a warrant to search this house. That can go down easy, or it can go down hard. Either way, it’s happening. You cooperate, it’ll go better for you. Now. Randolph in there?”

The woman’s face went slack for a moment as she determined what to do. She chose wrong. Beginning to yell, she tried to slam the door before Fin and Voight could shove their way in. There were a series of noises that sounded like they came from upstairs in the house as Fin and Voight overpowered the woman, and Voight was not gentle as he cuffed her to the banister while Fin tore up the stairs. 

They weren’t fast enough, because there was a back staircase and Randolph had been prepared in case this moment should come. Warned by the woman’s shouts, he had picked up the pistol he kept an arm’s length away at all times and rocketed down the back staircase into the attached garage. The first hint Laura had that anything was happening was the sound of the garage door at the front of the house opening. She ran full-speed along the side of the house to the front, reaching it just as a late-model sedan crashed through the garage door before it was halfway up. From her position at the side of the garage, she took aim, but had to pull back to safety when Randolph fired a number of wild shots with one hand while the car hurtled backward into the street.

“Oh, fuck no,” Laura growled, unable to get off even one effective shot. She was across the yard and into the unmarked squad car before Fin and Voight sprang through the front door, and had the car started by the time they threw themselves in. The tires squealed loudly as she turned the car around to race after Randolph. 

As they drove, Voight called the local cops to come and arrest the woman, then called the other teams. The house was in one of those planned neighborhoods where the streets were short and confusing, purposely designed for a minimum of traffic and to slow those cars that did pass through. It made catching up with Randolph easier than it otherwise would have been. He got out of the neighborhood ahead of them, but they could see his car in the distance once he hit a main thoroughfare, weaving around other cars and raising smoke as he screeched the tires. 

Randolph seemed to be heading for a particular destination. They wondered aloud what it could be, but had no ideas. All they could do was follow him. There was no hope of the other teams making it to join the chase in time – they were in Brooklyn, and the other teams were in Manhattan - and the local cops would just fuck things up. Platt and Rollins had their suspect in the box, already talking, and Carisi and Burgess had theirs cuffed in his apartment. They were helping the CSU team by none-too-gently getting their suspect to point out where Randolph had made the bomb, and other evidence that would bury both the suspect and Randolph. Olivia and Atwater had located their suspect, too, but were currently chasing him on foot through Chinatown. It was up to Voight, Fin, and Laura to take down Randolph.

He pulled onto the Fort Hamilton Parkway and dodged pedestrians and other cars as he flew through neighborhoods, blowing stoplights all the way. As the detectives had expected, Randolph got onto the Gowanus Expressway. That was actually a good thing. Although there were no pedestrians or traffic signals, and all the cars were moving in the same direction, which allowed Randolph to go much faster, it also allowed Laura to concentrate on driving, rather than the hundred potential accidents that had confronted her every second on the Parkway. 

When Randolph screamed off the Expressway at the last second before passing an exit, Laura was forced to lose a few seconds avoiding other cars as she followed him. He was heading to the waterfront. Fin guessed he must have some kind of bolt hole down there, and hoped to lose them in the tangle of streets and obstacles near the piers. 

He almost succeeded. He ditched the car in a massive parking lot full of row upon row of tractor-trailers. There were just enough cars and shipping containers in the rows to keep the detectives from being able to follow him just by watching underneath the tractor-trailers, which meant the detectives had to split up to search for him. They would have lost him had it not been for a couple of longshoremen sneaking a toke behind a warehouse, who shouted in surprise as Randolph went shooting past, pistol in hand. All three detectives instinctively ran toward the sound, meeting up at a rusty, broken, corrugated steel fence. Voight signaled Laura, who poked her Glock through the corner that had been pulled up to allow someone to slip through, followed by her head. She took a very quick peek, saw an ancient 50-gallon drum still wobbling from Randolph’s passage, and scrambled through the hole, followed by Voight and then Fin. Voight silently signaled Fin and Laura to go around the small, dilapidated warehouse directly in front of them, while he went the other way. 

Voight had much less distance to cover, so he reached the front of the leaky, rotted building first. There was a large door for cargo to come in, and within that a smaller, man-sized door. The man-sized door was ajar. 

When Fin and Laura joined him at the door, they silently signaled a plan and, Voight in the lead, burst into the warehouse. They were met instantly by gunshots, but they’d been prepared for that and had ducked behind crates the second they were through the door. Voight didn’t bother trying to talk to Randolph. He wasn’t going to give himself up. Instead, Voight signaled Laura to keep him busy with a gunfight while he and Fin circled their way through the maze of crates, barrels, boxes, and what looked like bins of discarded auto parts to where Randolph was holed up. As long as he kept shooting, it was easy to know where that was.

To give them more cover, Laura began shouting to Randolph. Even Voight was impressed at some of the filthy names she called him. He figured it probably felt good to be able to speak her mind to the man who had murdered her husband. But he knew it wouldn’t be enough. 

Randolph shouted back, taunting her with her pain. _Big mistake_, Fin thought as he maneuvered, step by tiny, silent step, to where Randolph crouched. Fin caught sight of Voight, twenty feet beyond him, as he passed between two stacks of boxes. Randolph appeared to have no idea they were there. _God bless the dumb ones_, Fin said to himself. _The ones who let themselves be blinded by hate, or anger, or lust, or whatever their thing was._

Laura came very close to winging Voight as she narrowed in on Randolph based on where his shots were coming from. As it was, he got a cut on his cheek from a splinter of wood flying off the crate she’d hit. And then Voight heard Fin’s voice, low and menacing as he told Randolph it was over. Randolph turned to attempt to fight, but got Fin’s fist – gun still in it – across the face for his trouble. He dropped his gun and Voight yelled to Laura to cease fire. 

Minutes later, Laura stood, panting, her Glock still in her hand as it hung at her side, while Fin led Randolph, cuffed and spitting mad, to an open spot on the floor of the small warehouse. Voight kicked Randolph’s knees without a word, dropping him to a kneeling position. Fin stood on one side, Voight on the other, as Laura deliberately, thoughtfully approached him. She still wore the look of shocked horror she’d worn since she’d learned of Rafael’s death, but now it was overlayed with a hatred Fin would never have believed her capable of. 

She carefully lifted her Glock, taking her time as she aimed it between his eyes from six inches away. No one spoke. The only sound was the ragged breathing of the four in the large room, all of them still winded. They remained as they were for a long time, Randolph glaring at Laura, daring her to kill him, while Voight and Fin stood, just waiting to see what would happen.

Finally, it was Randolph who broke the silence. Laura had seen it coming. The hate dimmed as he began to fully understand that Voight and Fin were not going to interfere. First he looked confused, flicking his eyes back and forth to each of them. Then, when they showed no reaction, no emotion, no intention to influence what was about to happen, the first flickers of fear began to cross his face. 

“You can’t kill me,” he said. “You’re cops.”

There was no response from any of the detectives, but Laura’s hand began, ever so slightly, to shake. Tears began to form in her eyes, the first tears Fin had seen since the day Rafael died. Laura lifted her left hand and cupped her right, seemingly to steady her gun as it aimed directly at Randolph’s forehead. Over the next minute, she began to cry. Tears began, slowly at first, to form and grow, then fall of their own weight down her cheeks as she stood, a silent war raging within her. 

Voight spoke in a low, gravelly growl. “Nobody’s gonna blame you if you end this prick. He came at you when you tried to arrest him. Or you can use my gun, I’ll say I’m the one who did him. However you need this to go, I got you.”

“_We_ got you,” Fin added quietly.

Randolph began to cry then, whispering, “Please… don’t”. 

Now Laura was fully crying, choking back sobs as her hands shook wildly holding the Glock on Randolph. She opened her mouth wide in a silent scream, willing herself to shoot. Then she began to shout - a long, loud, wordless yell as she pounded her foot against the floor, trying to make herself kill the bastard who had murdered Rafael. 

And then, as quickly as it had begun, Laura’s shouting stopped. She composed her face into a tortured mask. For long, tense moments, she stood like that, arms outstretched, weapon ready to fire, finger on the trigger, barrel six inches from the hated man’s forehead.

“BANG!” She shouted, as loudly as she possibly could. Fin and Voight jumped. Randolph gasped and a large, wet stain bloomed at the crotch of his pants.

With that, Laura ejected the magazine from her Glock, holding the gun in one hand, and the ammunition in the other. Her arms hung limply at her sides and she fell to her knees on the greasy, dirty floor, head bowed to her chest. Fin quickly pulled Randolph up by his arms and frogmarched him out to the squad car. He was not going to get to see any more of the grief he had caused. 

Laura was wracked by huge sobs that convulsed her whole body. She dropped her gun and magazine, falling forward onto all fours and keening, gasping for breath between uncontrollable spasms of wailing. Voight holstered his weapon and moved hers away, then knelt down beside her as she collapsed further, her forehead now resting on the concrete floor. Sobs gave way to screams so loud they hurt Voight’s ears. Laura began to pound the floor with her fist, again and again as she at last gave the first release to her anguished heartbreak. 

Voight simply stayed, kneeling next to her, a hand on her back, letting her scream and pound out her rage. He wasn’t afraid of the power of her grief. He knew that power, and knew that, as much as you wanted it to kill you, it didn’t. While he shed tears for Laura and for her Rafael, he took the opportunity to shed some for himself, for Justin, and for Al. 

Eventually, she tired herself out screaming and pounding the floor, and gave herself over to weeping, her sobs intermixed with cries of torment. The floor began to be wet with her tears, and Voight could see that she was making no effort to stop the strings of saliva that occasionally dripped from her mouth, open wide to release the animal sounds she needed to make.

It was well over half an hour later when she lifted herself up, just enough to fall against Voight. He caught her in his arms. 

“For what it’s worth,” he whispered, stroking her hair, “It doesn’t make you feel any better. Pain’s the same whether you take him out or not.”

“I cant… I can’t…” she wailed.

“Unfortunately, kid, you can. And you will. And it will hurt like a motherfucker for – as far as I can tell – the rest of your life. All I got is, you’re not alone. Me and whole lot of other people, we’re walking around with shit we shouldn’t be able to carry. But we do. You will, too.”

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” She screamed, her voice echoing around the warehouse.

“More.”

“Son of a BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!”

“That’s it. You’re doin’ good. C’mon. Gimme another one.”

“Cocksucking motherfucking shit, shit, SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT! Fucking cunting hell-damned… FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”

Voight knelt on the filthy warehouse floor, holding Laura and letting her vent her agony, until the sun was long gone from the sky and she was too tired to do more than whimper weakly. Carisi and Burgess had dumped their suspect at the station house and come to Brooklyn as fast as they could, arriving to find Fin standing a few feet from the squad car, just looking at the lights of Governor’s Island across the water. They could hear the sound of Randolph whining in the back seat, having been cuffed there for over an hour, but they couldn’t hear his words, and none of the detectives could have scrounged up a fuck if they’d tried. 

They stood together, hearing Laura’s voice occasionally, and talking in low tones about the other arrests. The group was dead. They had gotten confessions from all of the suspects, once they’d realized the overwhelming evidence against them, and the two who had known Randolph was the leader of the hate group were even now filling tablets of paper with statements that would send him to prison forever. 

When they could no longer hear Laura’s voice, Carisi had gone into the warehouse to quietly see what was going on. Voight was still holding her as she cried herself out, so Fin and Burgess left to take Randolph to the station house. They were not going to allow him to see Laura again until she testified at his trial, calm and in control of her emotions, and there to crucify him.


	53. After The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the death of Rafael Barba, his wife, OC Laura Parker, tries to figure out what happens next. After a year, she and Peter Stone meet in St. Thomas to hide from the holidays and reconnect. He is in a relationship and she is not ready for romance, so they enjoy a relaxing, platonic vacation together.

Laura had very quietly asked Sonny Carisi to take her to the airport, and asked him not to tell anyone. She had said her goodbyes to everyone else. She really couldn’t do it again. And she had a particular question she needed to ask Sonny.

One lone tear streaked her face as, for the last time, she locked the door of the apartment she’d shared with Rafael. She’d almost made it without crying. She would have been OK, except for the hollow sound the door made in the apartment as it closed. That hurt. It sounded like her heart felt. 

Sonny took her suitcase from her and they walked together to the elevator. 

The pain on Sonny’s face reflected her own and made her want to comfort him, even as he tried to comfort her. “I wish I knew what to say. I don’t know how to help. I want to, so much. But I don’t…” 

“I know, Carisi. And you are helping. It’s just… gonna take a long time.”

They were silent all the way to Sonny’s squad car, parked directly in front of the building with the emergency flashers going. Today was hard enough without getting into it with some flunky about fucking parking.

When they had buckled in, Carisi turned to Laura. “You said there was a question you wanted to ask me.”

“Yeah, there is.” She took a deep breath. “I need to know, Sonny. Would you tell me… when you pray… is God still there?”

The question, and the lost, frightened look in her eyes, broke his heart.

“Yes. Laura, yes. And He loves you. And He loves Rafael. And He’s got you. I don’t know much, but I know that.”

“I’m so mad at Him, Sonny! I’m so mad at Him for letting me waste so much time when I could have been with Rafael, and then taking him away as soon as we found each other.”

“I know. Me, too. And that’s OK. God can handle us being mad at him. If you’re mad, be mad. He knows, anyway.” Sonny blew his nose loudly enough to make Laura grin through her tears. 

“And one more thing-” he began.

“Don’t tell me it’s His plan. I hate His fucking plan! His plan sucks!” Laura’s anger, always near the surface these days, flared. Sonny wasn’t bothered by it. He shared it.

“You’ll see Rafael again. You’ll be together again. He’s not gone. He’s just gone from here.”

“OK.” She couldn’t say more than that at this point. She didn’t know what she believed. But she heard Sonny say it. And she listened.

“So the reason I asked you to come get me so many hours ahead of my flight is, I wondered if you would, um… go to Mass with me? I thought maybe I could hold onto you and you could believe for both of us.” 

“I’d be honored.”

“St. Augustine’s has a Mass in half an hour.”

Sonny nodded and pulled the car out into the street.

*********

**Date: September 15 1430pm **  
**From: Laura.Parker@freemail.com**  
**To: Peter.Stone@statesattorney.IL.gov**  
**Subject: Hi from Stockholm**

Hi, Peter,

Hope you will recognize my name after so long. If you delete this, I deserve it. I got your cards and emails, and I don’t know the words to tell you how much I appreciated them. You’re so much better of a friend than me. Sorry I didn’t write before. I’d rather talk to you than pretty much anyone else, I just haven’t really been talking to anyone for a while. Except my Mom, of course. That shit doesn’t fly with her. And Lucia, of course, because… well.

I hope I told you how much it meant to me that you came to New York. I don’t really remember much that week. So if I didn’t tell you, I knew you were there and it mattered.

Don’t know whether you heard this, but I’m in Stockholm, of all places. Liv helped me find this assignment and here I am, trying to learn how to pronounce letters we don’t even have in English and words that, between you and me, are really longer than is entirely appropriate. 

I’m OK. I like it here. My job is all computer geekery all the time. It’s interesting. Do you believe I’m a fed?! We’ve been working on this one case for seven months, and they finally made the arrests this week. The only downside is they don’t let me beat anyone up. 

A friend from work, Maiken, is showing me Stockholm. So between work and exploring with her, I have enough to think about other than my sorry self. Thank God, most people here start learning English in grade school, so my hellacious rudimentary Swedish isn’t so much of a handicap. Maiken taught me how to swear (no surprise I learned that first) which comes in handy sometimes on the Tunnelbana (subway to us). 

I know I’m not worthy, but be merciful and write me back. I want to know how you are. I ask my idiot brothers but they suck. They only remember the scores of the games you go to. I hope you wear a disguise when you see them so no one associates you with them.

Love you.

**Date: September 15 1450pm**  
**From: Peter.Stone@statesattorney.IL.gov**  
**To: Laura.Parker@freemail.com**  
**Subject: Re: Hi from Stockholm**

Sunshine,

So great to hear from you. I can’t stop smiling. And here I am writing you back immediately. What a sucker. So glad you’re doing OK but you’re too far away. I was mad when you left the country, but I know short of leg irons there’s no stopping you. 

I’m good. Got a promotion. Yay, me. Mark asks me why I bother having an apartment, then answers himself it’s where my clothes live. Weekly, he says this and expects me to laugh. My life. 

I miss you, Sunshine. Please tell me when you’re coming home. Or tell me when I can come see you.

I love you,  
Peter

**Date: September 15 1510pm**  
**From: Laura.Parker@freemail.com**  
**To: Peter.Stone@statesattorney.IL.gov**  
**Subject: Re: Hi from Stockholm**

Hi, Peter,

I’m writing you back right away, too. Who’s the sucker now? Congratulations on your promotion! Mark’s joke sounds so much like him. I miss him. I miss you. 

Would you really want to come see me here? I told Maiken about you and she wants to meet you. Beware: she has the messiest love live I’ve ever encountered. It’s like Game of Thrones, except with - no, it’s pretty much Game of Thrones. You have been warned. But she’s cool. She shows you amazing places to eat and teaches you how to swear in Swedish. 

I can never figure out the time difference, but I think we can text if you want to. There’s some shit you have do on your phone (technical phrase) but I can look into it if you want. 

Love,  
Laura d/b/a Sunshine

**Date: September 15 1520pm**  
**From: Peter.Stone@statesattorney.IL.gov**  
**To: Laura.Parker@freemail.com**  
**Subject: Re: Re: Hi from Stockholm**

Sunshine,

No I don’t want to fucking text, I want to hear your voice! Give me your number or call me. 

Peter

**Date: September 15 1620pm**  
**From: Laura.Parker@freemail.com**  
**To: Peter.Stone@statesattorney.IL.gov**  
**Subject: Re: Re: Hi from Stockholm**

****

Peter,

Rawr tiger. I called you but you didn’t answer. You should have my number in your phone now, though. I also texted it to you. Call me but only if you’re going to be nice because I’ve thought about you a lot and in my thoughts you’re nice. I have no idea how it works, if we can just call and it’s like in the US or if we’ll get a massive bill but I don’t care. I heard your voice on your message and now I can’t wait to talk to you. Even if you’re not nice.

Love,  
Laura

**Date: November 18 0953am**  
**From: Peter.Stone@statesattorney.IL.gov**  
**To: Laura.Parker@freemail.com**  
**Subject: Flight Info**

Sunshine,

My itinerary is attached. Looking so forward to seeing you. Your family is pissed that you’re going to be with me for the holidays instead of them. I pretend to feel bad. 

I want to bring you a present. What should I get you? 

Love,  
Peter

**Date: December 8 2120pm**  
**From: Laura.Parker@freemail.com**  
**To: Peter.Stone@statesattorney.IL.gov**  
**Subject: St. Thomas!!! **

Hi, Peter,

Here is a picture of me and Maiken. I’m the one on the left. So you’ll recognize me. Holy shit, I’m going to see you in two weeks! 

You mentioned my family is pissed I’m spending the holidays with you. You have ignored my question (twice) about how Katie feels about it. She must be some kind of fucking saint if she’s not tearing you limb from limb. For the millionth time, she can totally come! I don’t want to cause trouble for your love life and I’m dying to meet her.

Love,  
Laura

P.S. For my Christmas present, you have to be in all the selfies I want. I know how much you hate them but you are wrong. Terribly, dreadfully, completely, utterly wrong. 

**Peter:**  
Just landed. See you when you get here.

**Peter:**  
Checked in. Place is nice. 

**Laura:**  
In line in customs. WTF. I brought like 2 bikinis and a dress. Do I really need to be behind the family with 9 kids who are apparently emigrating here and brought everything they own? There may be livestock. I’m about to lose it. For real.

**Peter:**  
DO NOT lose it. If you cause an international incident and make me miss out on those bikinis I will not be happy.

**Laura:**  
Can’t help it. I’ve been on a different continent from you for over a year and now we’re on the same tiny island and I’m trapped in bureaucratic hell. I’m not the most patient person.

**Peter:**  
Indeed. Really?

**Laura:**  
FU 😊

It was after ten p.m. when Laura finally arrived at the hotel. She intended to check in, get to her room, take a quick shower, and then let Peter know she was there. She didn’t want to be hagged out after over a day travelling when he saw her for the first time in over a year. She should have known. As she dragged her suitcase wearily across the rough tile floor of the lobby to the hotel’s check-in desk, she caught sight of Peter as he stood up from a wicker settee across the room. 

For a moment, she just stood staring at him as he strode across the lobby toward her, smiling so hard it looked like it hurt. Or maybe she just thought that because her own smile was painfully wide. Sweet merciful heaven, he was so fucking beautiful! Everything about him was gorgeous, including his too-short hair and the truly heinous flowered board shorts he wore. She dropped the handle of her suitcase and let her carry-on fall to the floor as she ran toward him and leapt into his arms. He instantly swept her off her feet and she wrapped her legs around him, squeezing him with all her limbs as hard as she could. Both laughed and cried. 

The desk attendant was becoming a little uncomfortable the longer they embraced, laughing and wiping tears, saying all the stupid things people said when they met after a prolonged absence. _Americans_, she thought. _Give me some nice, polite Japanese people anyday._ And these two looked a little old to be behaving like this, anyway. Her eyes widened when, many minutes later, the woman came to the desk and checked into her own room, separate from the man’s, and not even adjoining. _Affair?_ But no, no one was joining them; they each had booked a room for only one guest. _Whatever_, the desk clerk thought. _The day I understand the weird shit tourists do…_

While Laura showered, Peter relaxed on her balcony, sipping a beer he’d brought from his own room. It wasn’t long before she appeared, toweling off her wet hair and wearing an ankle-length cotton halter dress in a very colorful print.

“You should have warned me about that dress,” Peter said, holding a hand over his eyes. “I woulda worn my sunglasses.”

“I got two words for you, hotshot. Those shorts.” 

“Where’d you get a dress like that in Sweden?”

“Amazon. Like the entire rest of the known world.”

Their conversation went on like that, light and happy and easy, while Laura combed her hair and they sat watching the waves. Even at night, there was enough light to see the rocky shoreline in front of their balconies. Laura was exhausted after travelling for over a day, but didn’t want to miss one second with Peter. Eventually, she simply couldn’t sit anymore and said that she needed to stretch out.

“C’mon,” she said, “We can talk in here.” 

In a very short time after they laid down on her bed, she under a sheet with her head on the pillows, he on top of the sheet with his head at the foot of the bed, they fell into a deep sleep. Peter woke during the night, and thought about crawling in with Laura, but decided it was best just to grab a pillow and stay where he was. There was no chance he would go back to his room, alone, when he could be here with her.

The next day, they hurried through breakfast so that they could catch a dive boat leaving for a sheltered bay perfect for amateurs. They snorkeled all day, exploring the bay and pointing at colorful fish, taking underwater selfies (which Peter said were the only thing stupider than selfies on land but tolerated all day long), and enjoying the sun and warm water. They had been smart enough to bring sun guard shirts, since both were coming from cold climates and had no tans at all. By the time the boat landed back at the pier near their hotel, they were both too tired to think about trying to shower and get dressed to go out for dinner. They settled for stew chicken from a street vendor they passed on the walk back to the hotel.

An hour after they returned to the hotel, Peter heard Laura’s knock on his door. She had showered and just knotted her wet hair at the back of her head, and was wearing a cool, cotton wrap dress that actually belonged to her friend Maiken. When Peter opened the door, he was wearing those damn board shorts again, and nothing else. As always, Laura immediately noticed his trim, muscular torso and his lovely, brawny arms. Tonight, though, she hoped he was planning to put on a shirt. 

They sat on Peter’s balcony in the cool evening breeze, looking at the pictures they’d taken that day. There were some beautiful shots of the schools of yellow and purple fish, some of sea turtles swimming near them, and several very cute photos of the two of them. They’d also taken pictures of each other, some of which were very good, and some of which they teased each other about. 

When they had tired of the pictures, they sat, side by side, sipping drinks and watching the moon come up over the water. 

“I could live here,” Laura noted.

“You don’t like Stockholm?”

“I like Stockholm a lot, but it’s cold most of the time. I love this warmth.”

Peter sighed contentedly. “It really doesn’t seem like Christmas.”

“It doesn’t.”

He looked over at her. “Which, I’m guessing, is the point?”

Laura didn’t look at him. She took a long drink of the passionfruit juice she was nursing. “I don’t want the holidays. Can we leave it at that?”

“Sure. I want to hear more about Stockholm.”

Laura didn’t know whether Peter gave two shits about Stockholm, but she loved him for changing the subject. He was actually quite interested in her new life, but he also knew that this was only her second Christmas without Rafael, and that the two of them had gotten engaged on New Years’ Eve. Peter understood why Laura would need to ignore the holidays for a while. 

They talked about a lot of things as they sat there, sometimes sharing stories about their work, sometimes talking about the Parkers, sometimes showing eachother photos and goofy internet memes on their phones. At one point, Peter scrolled past a picture of himself and a woman, sitting at a restaurant table clinking cocktail glasses and smiling. He had his arm around her. 

“Wait, wait! Go back. Is that Katie?” She asked.

Reluctantly, Peter scrolled back and handed Laura his phone. “Yeah, that’s Katie and me on my birthday.”

“Wow. She’s a knockout.”

“Yeah.” 

Laura handed Peter back his phone. “What?”

“Nothing. She’s beautiful. Yes.”

“Hmmmm. Not detecting a lot of enthusiasm there. ‘Nothing. She’s beautiful.’” She mimicked.

“I don’t really want to talk about Katie. Can we leave it at that?” 

They looked at eachother and Laura shrugged more casually than she felt. “Of course.” 

A silence descended, during which Peter absently flipped through pictures on his phone and Laura looked out at the waves and the moon. After a few minutes, Peter held his phone out to her and showed her a picture of the two of them huddled under a blanket at a Chicago Bears game, snow falling thickly on their hats and on the rowdy crowd around them. They chuckled.

“That was so damn cold,” Peter said.

“My toes hurt so bad when they thawed out. I thought I had frostbite.”

“Good game, though.”

“_Great game_. Worth losing a couple toes. How many years ago was that?”

“Don’t ask me that. I turned forty last year. I don’t like to think about how long ago stuff was.”

Another silence. 

“Peter?”

“Hmmmmm?”

“I would like to have one minute of serious conversation, and then no more for the rest of our time here. You game?”

He looked out to sea. “One minute.” He made it sound like one minute of having bamboo under his fingernails.

“Are you OK?” 

He looked over at her, surprise on his face. “You’re the one who… Yeah, I’m OK. I’m supposed to be asking you that.”

“Don’t lie to me, Peter Stone. I’ve known you too long. I’ll tell you how I am if you’ll tell me how you are.”

“Sunshine, I’m fine. I just don’t feel right about talking to you about some other woman. And, to be honest, turning forty kind of kicked my ass. I’ll be OK. If that’s the worst problem I have, I’m doing pretty good. OK?” 

She looked hard at him for a moment. “OK. But you can talk to me if you want. And, for the record, you’re a seriously hot old guy. I’d hit that.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh. Only she would say something like that to him. Only she could. “Well, thanks for that. Now you. How are you? Really?”

“I’m… OK. I feel like I’ve been frozen and I’m kind of thawing out around the edges, you know? I don’t really want to, but that’s what seems to be happening.”

“You’re too young not to.”

“Fuck,” she said, with some bite in it, then sighed heavily. 

“You’re going to be OK, Sunshine.”

“Yeah, I guess. Someday. But not today. And not tomorrow.”

Peter reached out a hand and she put her hand in his. Their fingers entwined. 

“You’re my best friend, you know,” he said, looking out over the moon-dappled sea.

“You’re my best friend, too.”

“Can the minute of seriousness be over now?”

“Hell, yes.”

Again that night, they eventually moved to stretch out on the bed to talk, and fell asleep next to one another. This time, Laura was the one who awoke in the night. She was cold from being uncovered in her thin, short dress, and crawled under the covers, resisting the temptation to cuddle up to Peter.

*************

The rest of their time in St. Thomas was spent lounging in the sun, sightseeing, kayaking, swimming and snorkeling. They were surprised to find that the most fun they had wasn’t in the ocean, but ziplining through the rainforest canopy. Peter’s favorite picture of the trip was one that an attendant had taken of them, wearing helmets and harnesses and laughing their heads off. 

True to their agreement on that second night, they had spoken about most aspects of their current lives, but hadn’t tried to tackle any subject more difficult than annoying coworkers. The front desk clerk who had checked Laura into her room would have been very confused by the fact that they never spent one night sleeping apart, but never got more intimate than the hug they’d shared that first night in the lobby.


	54. The Time Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone's girlfriend is perfect except for one thing: he can't fall in love with her. OC Laura Parker spends a year and a half in Sweden recovering from her husband Rafael Barba's death.

Katie Pickering was a lovely woman. Everyone said so. She was well-educated, had a coveted and lucrative job practicing corporate tax law, and was beautiful by anyone’s standards. At the same time, she was also thoughtful and kind, and genuinely cared about other people. 

Katie had a large group of similarly-accomplished women friends, many of whom, over the years, had subtly (some not-so-subtly) hinted that she really deserved a better relationship than the one she had with Peter Stone. Katie agreed wholeheartedly. The problem was, she was completely, irrevocably in love with him. 

For the first year Katie had been dating Peter, she was nothing but excited about him. She saw a bright, happy future with him and couldn’t wait. By the time the anniversary of their first date rolled around, however, he still hadn’t used the “L” word, and hadn’t said anything about moving in together, let alone marriage. Katie was a confident woman who knew a good man when she had one, so she simply decided to take matters into her own hands. 

For their anniversary, she had taken him to a romantic lakeside cabin (well, a 4-star resort that was decorated like a rustic cabin), got him buzzed on champagne, fucked him senseless, and told him she loved him while they reclined in a hot tub. Her feelings were seriously hurt when his response had been a surprised, “You do?”

Katie had pouted and gone to bed mad. Peter had fumbled his way through an apology and said he was just surprised, but it had not been a good weekend. And he had not said he loved her back.

Peter wanted to love Katie. He knew he should. Katie was everything any man, including him, could want. And Laura was in love with someone else. So somewhere in their second year together, he had started saying “I love you” back to Katie, knowing she needed and deserved to hear it. But it wasn’t what Katie had expected. It wasn’t what she’d expected because she didn’t believe him. And she didn’t believe him because it wasn’t true. 

By their second anniversary, Peter consciously realized he had a problem. In the beginning, he had thought Katie was exactly like him: career-driven and really just wanting a friend-with-benefits he could take to events. He now knew there was a lot more to her than that, that she meant it when she said she loved him, and that she wanted him to love her back. Which was fair. To be fair back, he knew he should let Katie go. He should explain that he was in love with another woman he just couldn’t get out of his heart, and set Katie free to find a man who deserved her and could give her all of himself. 

But a weird thing happened every time he tried. He could never go through with it, and he would almost swear that she was shutting him down. But how could that be, if she didn’t know what he was going to say? So he sort of… coasted. Things were good with Katie. He liked her. They got along with each other’s friends, had good sex, and understood each other’s ambitions. She was the most thoughtful woman he’d ever dated and she made it fun and easy to do nice things for her, too. So he coasted and he tried to fall in love with her. 

Then, during year three with Katie, Rafael Barba died. Peter was absolutely knocked off his pins. His overwhelming concern had been for Laura. He was horrified to learn how hard Barba’s death had hit her, and the worst part was, he wasn’t family. Sure, they all treated him as if he was, but that was just… politeness. He couldn’t go to New York and live with them and help take care of her, as desperately as he wanted to. He couldn’t sit with them at Barba’s funeral. He couldn’t stay with Laura and hold her and love her until she came back, although that was all he wanted to do. 

Peter was human, and he was in love with Laura. Had been for well over a decade. So it was only natural, as shameful as he thought it was, for him to realize that she was now single again. He had absolutely no idea what to do about that, or whether he even _could_ do anything about that. And then she’d run away to Sweden without even saying goodbye. He was crushed, and worried, and now completely clueless as to what to do about Laura. Or Katie.

What Peter didn’t do was tell Katie any of this. To the best of his knowledge, Katie had never heard Laura’s name, and he might well never hear from Laura again. How was he supposed to explain? And if Laura was never coming back, what was the point? So he’d thrown himself even further into work and Katie had never really seemed to notice that anything was wrong. For the next year, Peter had secretly nursed his broken heart and gotten on with things. Hell, he’d been doing that since the day he’d left Laura in the hospital all those years ago, and he’d had to do it all over again when she’d married another man. He’d been doing it so long, it just looked to the world like that’s who Peter Stone was. 

Until.

Until Laura emailed him from Stockholm. Until she sought him out before anyone else outside her family when she started to be able to live again. Until she said she’d missed him, too, and wanted to rekindle their friendship, and he had welcomed her with open arms back into his life. That was another time he should have ended things with Katie. And another time he tried. And another time it somehow didn’t go the way he planned.

To Peter’s credit, he didn’t hide his newly-regained friendship from Katie. He said he’d re-connected with an old friend, and he’d mentioned that she was a woman. But Katie asked no questions, and Peter didn’t offer any further information. 

Not two months after Laura’s email, however, Peter was planning to meet her in St. Thomas for the holidays. From the second the idea had been born, Peter was determined to move heaven and earth to make it happen. Which meant he had to tell Katie. Laura had suggested again and again that Katie could join them, but Peter never considered that for a millisecond. He also never believed for a millisecond that Laura wanted Katie there, and he was right about that. A million years ago, when Peter had just started to date a woman in New York and things were just beginning between Laura and Rafael, Peter and Laura had agreed never to invite each other on a double date. That promise, as far as Peter was concerned, still stood. Besides, he didn’t love Katie. He loved Laura. So he had, once again, tried to end things with Katie.

That conversation was the first time Katie ever heard the name Laura Parker. Peter had explained that she was an old friend and a recent widow who now lived in Stockholm, and that they were going to meet in St. Thomas to spend the holidays together. As friends. He’d meant that. He could tell from his conversations with Laura that she wasn’t ready for anything else, and he honestly just wanted to be with her. If it was just as friends, so be it.

Still, he had assumed Katie would end their relationship. As any woman would under the circumstances, she had certainly had a great deal to say on the subject – her vociferous reaction to Peter’s announcement was now legend among the other tenants of her building. He’d borne it calmly and respectfully, because he deserved it. After she finished pacing and ranting, Katie had told him that she was hurt and felt abandoned for the holidays, and that she thought he was treating her badly. He agreed and apologized. But then, just as he was picking up his suit jacket to leave her apartment for good, she had told him she thought it was nice of him to be there for a friend who was hurting, and that she trusted him. At first, he’d just stared dumbly at her. _Seriously? What woman would do that?_ Sure, he was telling the truth, but…

Once again, Peter found himself unable to set Katie free. She was being ridiculously understanding and trusting. After that, how could he possibly leave her just before the holidays? He felt trapped, spent an unconscionable amount of money on Christmas gifts for her, and continued to coast. 

************

Laura had not been able to stay in New York. Everything, everywhere reminded her of Rafael. She hadn’t even been able to return to the station house or the SVU squad room once Rafael’s murderer had been arrested. She had made an appointment to meet Olivia at Olivia’s apartment, resigned her position, and asked for help finding an assignment with a law-enforcement agency overseas. Any position, any agency, any country – as long as it wasn’t a Spanish-speaking country.

For a split second, Olivia had been confused – why wouldn’t a Spanish-speaking country be Parker’s _first_ choice? It hit her almost immediately. The last thing Laura needed was to hear Rafael’s voice everywhere. So Olivia had reached out to her federal contacts and it had taken very little time to find Laura a position with an international unit doing surveillance of communications across Europe, based in Stockholm. Laura had jumped at it and been out of New York two weeks later. 

For the SVU squad, the double loss of Barba and Parker hit hard. It was going to be a very long time before the squad didn’t feel like they were in mourning for both of them. All they could do was wish Laura well, which they did with all their hearts.

Stockholm was perfect. The job was nothing like what Laura had done at SVU, or even Intelligence. Expectations were high, there was a steep learning curve, and the work was tough. All of that meant that the challenges kept Laura occupied during the days. She worked as many hours as she could and, when she couldn’t avoid it, she went home to a flat she had chosen because it was so tiny it felt a little like she was hidden. 

She was like a wounded animal in those first months. She had run away from everything and everyone to lick her wounds in privacy, and she rejected any attempts by anyone to get to know her. She responded to her mother’s attempts – demands, really – to keep in touch, but could only make herself share the bare facts of her existence. The one person who had any idea how she was truly grieving had been Lucia. Laura had reached out to Lucia because she had to. Sometimes, the pain would get so bad she would call Lucia and they would just look at pictures and cry over the phone. 

Enter Maiken. In Stockholm, people get around largely by public transportation, which suited Laura fine. She hadn’t owned a car since Chicago. She and Maiken noticed eachother taking the same bus on the same schedule, and realized they worked at the same “IT Company” (the cover identity for the government surveillance agency it really was) and lived very near one another. 

Friendship hadn’t blossomed right away. Maiken liked to say that, for the first six months, Laura had “ten-foot spikes going out in every direction telling everyone to keep the fuck off.” Still, they had begun to chat idly as they traveled to and from Sundbyberg, where they lived, to Kungsholmen, where they worked. Eventually, Maiken’s ridiculous sense of humor and entirely open heart caused her to begin oversharing with Laura as soon as Laura had thawed enough toward her for conversation about more than the weather and traffic. Maiken had an easy, cheerful demeanor and didn’t ask questions. She was perfectly willing to do all the talking. When she did, Laura liked her so much that, in time, she had begun to open up, tiny bit by tiny bit.

They frequented a coffee shop in Sundbyberg that was one block from Laura’s flat in one direction, and three blocks from Maiken’s flat in the other. Maiken was currently living with a girlfriend and a boyfriend, and the three had a messy, dramatic, but apparently mutually satisfactory, domestic arrangement. Maiken loved to tease Laura about the impression she had made in those first months in Stockholm.

“We all thought you were a spy. Which is a little ironic, since that is basically what we all are, but we thought you were there to spy on _us_. We thought you were too stuck-up to even have a drink with us.”

“Wait, so you didn’t care that I was a spy, as long as I’d have a drink with you like a normal coworker?”

“Exactly. _Välkommen till Sverige_[1]. Plus, you know, there was poor Elias.”

“Poor Elias” had been a very nice man who had thought Laura seemed sad and needed a friend. He had been right about that, but he also thought she was cute and had made the mistake of making a pass. So soon after Rafael’s death, Laura was entirely unprepared for that and had basically knocked poor Elias on his ass. It had taken the story approximately an hour to circulate throughout the entire building. 

“So then we _knew_ you were a spy, with those Mata Hari moves, and we also learned you were a bitch. Everyone wanted to hang out with you. You were so mysterious and cool.”

Laura had a good laugh at that. “Oh, if you’d only known. I was spending my days working and my nights crying. And you sure as fuck didn’t want me drinking on top of that.”

“Well, yeah, _now_ I know it would have sucked ass to be friends with you then, but at the time…”

“And I suppose now you’ve told the entire company my real story and they all think I’m boring and sad.”

“Oh, fuck no. I told them all you knifed a guy in Hungary, but you were both spies so the CIA put you in witness protection here. And also that you slept your way across the Baltic States.”

“Why did I do that?”

“Why not?”

Once they’d become friends, Maiken didn’t let Laura wallow in her bereavement. She showed her Stockholm, introduced her to a world of new foods, and made her laugh constantly. Maiken had eventually come to accept Laura’s absolute refusal to consider dating, but that had taken time. She shrugged when Laura said she wouldn’t be ready for another man for a long time, said she understood, and advised Laura that what she needed was a woman. Which kind of made sense to Laura, except that she and Maiken both knew that sexual preference was not a choice, and Laura was straight. That was just the way it was. So Maiken began to tease Laura about being a sexual deviant, attracted only to men, and stopped pressing. 

On the anniversary of Rafael’s death, Laura had gone to Mass and spent a very long time weeping and praying for Rafael. But on her way back to her flat, she realized two things: first, that it was the first time she’d cried in weeks, and second, that she’d been in Stockholm for nearly a year.

She knew she wasn’t near ready to return to the States. But she thought it was past time to try reaching out a little. The first person she thought of was Peter Stone. She hadn’t responded to any of Peter’s emails or cards in all the time she’d been in Sweden. Every few weeks, he sent very short, 2- or 3-sentence emails that just said he was fine and missed her, and he sent pretty cards with cheerful messages, simply signed “I love you, Peter”. At first, she would get them and could only smile weakly through her tears and be happy that he was thinking about her. She couldn’t respond, even to him. Now, she thought maybe she could.

It had still taken Laura nearly a month to find the courage to try. When she did, she found that her overwhelming grief for Rafael had overshadowed another pain she hadn’t even known she felt: she had missed Peter tremendously. Their connection, once again rediscovered, flourished instantly. She’d planned to spend the holidays somewhere warm where she could pretend they weren’t happening and, before she knew it, suddenly Peter would be joining her there. Laura had felt a pleasant anticipation she’d been afraid she’d never feel again. What had begun as an attempt to ignore the holidays had turned into her first actual, real hope of happiness since Rafael’s death.

The trip itself had outstripped all her expectations. Seeing Peter, spending time just enjoying the sun and the island with him, feeling the long-denied comfort of being in the company of a long-time friend, had healed her heart more than she would ever have thought possible. Laura simply _liked_ Peter. She enjoyed his company and she liked being around him. Of course, she’d also been attracted to him while they were in St. Thomas. She always had been. She had wanted him the entire time. But there had never been a moment when she felt in danger of acting on those feelings. She assumed it was because she was still in mourning. She also assumed it was because he now belonged to someone else and, being Peter, would act no less than honorably. And that had made it comfortable to be together, even to sleep together every night, without weirdness. 

Things were different now.

A year and a half after Rafael’s death, Laura found herself able to think of Rafael with a smile. She became tearful sometimes, but she hadn’t spent a night wracked with sobs in a very long time. She thought about maybe putting a picture of him out somewhere in her little flat. She hadn’t done that before because to come across a picture of Rafael unexpectedly had felt like sticking a knife in an electric socket. But she thought she might be able to handle it now. To smile when she saw his face, remembering him and their love. To say a little prayer for him, tell him she missed him, and go about her day with a grief-tinged gladness that she had gotten to love him.

She also felt different about Peter. Something had changed after his sister’s murder and the terrible crisis Laura had helped him through afterward. She understood him, and what it must have been like for him when she was drinking, better. She found the ability to forgive herself a little bit, because now she had a reason to believe Peter when he said that even the worst she had done hadn’t made a dent in his love for her.

And, after their time together in St. Thomas, she found herself thinking about him almost constantly. She remembered how he had looked swimming, and laughing, and sleeping, and felt a rush of pure lust. She expected it to make her feel guilty, as though she owed it to Rafael to never feel those things again. But she didn’t. Instead, she felt as though Rafael would have given her one of his disapproving smirks at the very idea of giving up her sexual self at her age.

***********

Peter stood looking out at the view from Katie’s balcony, knowing that it would be the last time. He felt many things, primarily relief. He’d put this off for far too long. Years too long. He really had treated her badly. He knew he was about to get blasted, and he knew he deserved it. He also knew he didn’t care as much as he should.

Katie shook her hair to fluff it and picked up their drinks. Peter hadn’t even kissed her in the week he’d been back from St. Thomas. She knew she had lost him to Miss Stockholm. Actually, Katie knew a lot more than Peter thought she did, including the fact that Miss Stockholm was a hell of a lot more than an “old friend”. He still had the engagement ring he’d given to her, for fuck’s sake! This Laura of his. It was kind of romantic, really, this idea that he had carried a torch for her all this time, even when she had married another man. But Katie still wanted to push him off her fifth-floor balcony. There weren’t many men like Peter Stone. It was going to take a long time to get over him.

Katie glided out to the balcony, handing Peter a glass of bourbon before sitting gracefully in an elegant wrought-iron chair. “So. You said we needed to talk. The four most frightening words in the English language.”

Peter didn’t smile. He took a healthy swallow of bourbon. _Here goes._ “Katie, I owe you an apology. Many apologies, actually, and I am very sorry. You deserved so much better than you got from me. This whole time, you did all the giving, and I did all the taking. I know that.”

Katie took a sip of the excellent shiraz in her glass, which was entirely inadequate to the task. Her friends would say the moment called for a shot of Wild Turkey. She didn’t have Wild Turkey, but she did have tequila, which would do in an emergency. And this was an emergency. She wondered what Peter would say if she excused herself to do an emergency shot. Actually, she knew exactly what he would say. He would graciously excuse her, and wait patiently until she returned. That was Peter. But he would still dump her. She might as well get this over with. She’d managed to steer him away from it all the other times, but this time was different. This time, he was already gone. He had been since St. Thomas. 

********

The famous Peter Stone was coming to Stockholm. Maiken couldn’t wait to meet him. He had also dumped his girlfriend. From where Maiken stood, it was green lights across the board for Laura and yet, for some reason, she was freaking out about it. 

“Let me just review, because your Swedish sucks ass,” Maiken began.

“I was speaking English.”

“Well, you weren’t making any sense. And you Swedish still sucks ass. So you are single, _rätt_[2]?”

“_Rätt_, but…”

“And Peter is now single. _Rätt_?”

“_Rätt_, but…”

“And you love this man.”

“_Rätt_, but…”

“And he loves you.”

“Maik, you’re oversimplifying-“

“_Hålla mun_[3]! And this man is… what did you call him?”

“Sex on a stick.”

“I cannot wait to say that. Anyway, so an insanely fuckable man who you love, who loves you, has dumped his girlfriend and is coming here. And you see a problem with that. You’re my friend, Laura, but you’re a fucking idiot.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s not complicated. I assume you know how to fuck, _ja_?”

“Maik…”

“And Peter, he knows how to fuck?”

“Peter definitely knows how to fuck.”

“Then my work here is done. He’ll come here, you’ll introduce him to me, we’ll have lunch, and then you’ll take him back to your flat and fuck him. And I’ve seen pictures, I suggest you fuck him several times, because that man is sex on a… pole?”

“Stick.”

“Whatever.”

[1] Welcome to Sweden.

[2] Right?

[3] Shut up!


	55. Full Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone visits OC Laura Parker in Stockholm, where they have a passionate reunion and talk about their future.

The first thing Peter noticed as he saw Laura across the baggage claim at Arlanda airport was that he still felt the same excited warmth he always had when he saw her. His heart still skipped a beat, his lips still spontaneously smiled, and he still felt the urge to run toward her and sweep her up into his arms. 

The second thing he noticed was that she looked older. He would never have said that out loud, didn’t even really feel good about thinking it, but it was true. He realized that, since he had turned forty the year before, she would soon be approaching forty herself. 

But that wasn’t the difference. She was still his Sunshine, but she was Sunshine… after. After Rafael. After building a life, with all the struggles and sacrifices, only to have it destroyed in one moment, before it even really had a chance to begin. After the joyful path she was skipping along suddenly disappeared from beneath her feet and she fell, alone, into the abyss. Laura was who she was, which meant she was always going to find a way to crawl back out to the daylight somehow. She had done that now. But she was not unchanged by her time in Hell. 

The overwhelming rush of love that burst over Peter in that moment overshadowed all else. The bustling airport, the people bumping into him and knocking him with their luggage, the din of voices and squawk of overhead announcements, all disappeared so that the only thing in Peter’s world was her. His Sunshine. Walking toward him looking as lovely and smiling as brightly as she ever had.

As he took her into his arms, he felt the most wonderful sense of homecoming he’d ever experienced.

They held each other for a long time, Laura on her tiptoes with her arms around his neck, face buried in his chest. He smelled wonderful. The smell of him made Laura feel nostalgic, and emotional, and horny, and contented, and absurdly, blissfully happy. 

Laura’s flat consisted of a very small main room that included the kitchen, a miniscule bedroom, and a microscopic bathroom. It fit one person, especially one Laura’s size, snugly. With Peter in it, it seemed even smaller and, somehow, _full of_ Peter. Tall, beautiful, ridiculously male, he dominated the tiny space. Or maybe that was just because Laura was completely overpowered by the feeling of having him here.

Peter noticed that there were touches of Laura everywhere. Pictures of her family, vases with a flower or two in them, books all over, her guitar and, on a table in the small living room, a framed copy of the picture of Laura and Peter ziplining in St. Thomas. There were no pictures of Rafael that he could see, but he was sure that she had plenty of pictures of him to look at when she chose. He could understand keeping those pictures where she would see them only when she felt able to look at them. Even now, over a year and a half after his death, Peter still felt jealous of Rafael’s place in Laura’s heart. He supposed he always would. 

“So, let’s toss your bags in the bedroom. I’ll take the couch, and-“

“I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed.”

“I fit on the couch. You don’t. Anyway, we’ll see. So. You ready for the Maiken experience?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“I know you slept on the plane, but let me know if you get tired, OK?”

“I will.”

They met Maiken at their usual coffee shop, which Laura had mentioned to Peter many times. It looked just like he’d imagined, and Maiken didn’t disappoint. Before Laura and Peter had even reached the table, she jumped up and came toward them.

“_Hej hej_[1]! Oh, holy fuck. He _is_ sex on a stick!” She threw her arms around Peter and gave him kisses on both cheeks. Laura laughed while Peter blushed. 

“Ah, Peter, this is-“

“I’m guessing you’re Maiken.”

“Sit down, gorgeous, and let’s get to know eachother.”

They had coffee and, in the first five minutes, Maiken had told Peter several indiscreet details of her love life (the boyfriend had moved out, but she and her girlfriend had a good candidate for a replacement) and was well on her way to charming him. By the time they had walked to the restaurant Maiken recommended and had lunch, they felt as though they’d known eachother forever. That was simply Maiken. 

Peter and Laura invited Maiken to accompany them on their walking tour of Gamla Stan, but she declined with a wink. 

They spent their afternoon walking, hand in hand, through the labyrinth of cobbled streets and alleys of Old Town Stockholm. Peter loved architecture, and Gamla Stan was full of centuries-old, brightly colored, tall town houses with gables, as well as medieval buildings like the Storkyrkan Cathedral and the Royal Palace. The day was sunny and warm, but not hot, and they didn’t feel any particular need to see everything, or even anything in particular. They just enjoyed being together, holding hands and taking in the sights at their own, leisurely pace. 

They spent a long time gazing at the statue of St. George and the Dragon in Storkyrkan Cathedral. The massive statue was impossibly ornate, with more detail than they could possibly take in. They walked around it, viewing it from different angles, Peter’s arm around Laura’s shoulders, and hers around his waist.

“You know what this makes me think of?” Peter asked.

“What?”

“You.” 

“Wait – am I the dragon? Because if I’m the dragon…”

“Stop it, Sunshine. You’re not the dragon. You’re St. George. Things happen in your life that could crush you, and you just… slay them.”

Laura squeezed Peter around his waist and thought about that. “I wonder if St. George was sometimes sure the dragon was going to get him.”

“I’m sure he was. That’s what makes him brave.”

“You know what it makes me think of?”

“Hmmm.”

“Us. You and me.”

Peter looked down at her, smiling. “I’m afraid to ask who’s the dragon in that scenario.”

Laura didn’t smile. She looked over at the statue. “It’s like… we met, and then things happened so we couldn’t be together, but we did what we had to do, and then we found each other again. And then more things happened, and we couldn’t be together again. But now here we are. Life is the dragon. It keeps trying to keep us apart, but we’re St. George. We always find each other again.”

“Hmmm.”

“It sounded way more profound in my head,” Laura fumbled, suddenly feeling very emotional, and also very uncomfortable about the thoughts she was having in a church. Peter felt wonderful pressed against her, and he was looking at her with what she could swear was desire in his eyes.

“It’s true. You and I seem to be inseparable, in the grand scheme of things. Partly, that’s because I refuse to be separated from you.” Peter turned his body so that he could hold Laura in both arms. “I love you, you know.”

“I love you, too, Peter.” 

He leaned down and, turning his head just slightly to fully capture her lips with his, kissed her. Although the kiss didn’t last long enough to be entirely improper for church, the feelings it roused in each of them definitely were.

They’d been holding hands all day. They’d put an arm around each other, or stood touching one another, every time they’d stopped to look at something. Their body language since Peter had arrived in Stockholm had been different from what it had been in St. Thomas. They had always been physically affectionate, even when they had thought they had no future, but now, today, walking slowly around Gamla Stan, theirs was the body language of lovers. They both knew it. They both intended it. After that kiss, though, the simmering sexual energy between them heated up. 

Peter and Laura knew where they were headed. They felt an odd mix of eagerness to be alone together, a desire to prolong what had basically become extended foreplay, and a sense of having plenty of time, all at once. They’d been in love for almost two decades. So much had happened to keep them apart, for so long, that another few hours would change nothing. And it was kind of fun to delay the gratification that they were both certain was coming. But they were both definitely starting to feel a growing sense of urgency.

************

It was early evening when they decided they’d had enough sightseeing, and Peter was starting to feel his jet lag. They took a cab back to Sundbyberg, cuddling and smooching in the back seat of the tiny Renault. Reaching Laura’s flat, they settled next to each other on the small couch, nibbling on snacks rather than bothering with dinner. Peter’s long legs were stretched out on the table in front of the couch and one arm was around Laura’s shoulders, while she leaned against him with her legs tucked under her and one hand resting on his thigh. 

“You ready to talk about this, Sunshine?” Peter asked after a while. His voice was low, quiet, and there was no question what he meant.

Laura frowned into the distance. As much as she wanted this conversation, she couldn’t be entirely sure she was ready for it. But it was time. She turned her body so that she could look into Peter’s eyes. “I need you to know that I never stopped being in love with you.” 

Peter reached out and gently placed a hand on Laura’s cheek, his face showing all the love he felt. 

“It has nothing to do with how I feel about Rafael. Nothing. That’s just… separate. My love for you is about you. It’s about us. And it’s never gone away. This whole time.”

Peter’s heart was hammering. Now that the moment was here, now that he knew for sure that his Sunshine was, in fact, his again, all the words he’d wanted to say to her for all those years suddenly deserted him completely. His mouth went dry. He took his arm from around her, leaned over and picked up his water glass from the low table in front of them, and took a long drink.

“And then he takes a drink. Says nothing, leaves her hanging, just takes a little break to enjoy a refreshing beverage,” Laura said drily, trying to cover her nervousness with a joke.

“I’m formulating a response. And my mouth is dry, because this is probably the most important conversation of my life.”

Peter had to smile at the hope that glowed in Laura’s face when he said that. 

“It is?” She asked in a small, breathy voice.

He took his feet off the table and set his glass back down carefully, then turned his body to face her. He took her face in both his hands, resting his forehead against hers. He took a moment before he spoke, trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Of course it is. You know it is. This is the conversation where I tell you I never stopped being in love with you, either, which you already know, anyway. And then we talk about what comes next.”

Laura didn’t even notice the tears of happiness welling in her eyes. “I love you, Peter.”

“I love you, too.” Peter’s smile was dazzling. He was glad they were sitting, because he actually felt weak with joy. What a strange thing, but there it was. 

“Sunshine, you can’t know how precious you are to me. How important you are. I’ve waited half a lifetime for this moment.” His voice cracked and he pulled her to him in a too-tight hug, with his hand on the back of her head, crushing her to his chest. No matter how hard he held her in that moment, she would not have complained. “You are the only woman I have ever loved. The only woman I ever will love. And you’re here, now, in my arms, and there’s nothing standing between us anymore.”

Peter relaxed his hold on Laura so that she could look at him again. He took a breath, pulling back ever so slightly. He tried to get a hold of his emotions, but the catch in his voice and the tears in his eyes made it entirely clear what he was feeling. “So yeah, this is kind of a big moment for me.”

“For me, too,” she assured him, her own eyes overflowing. 

“I want you to come home. I’m never letting you go again. I want you to come home and be with me forever.”

Peter could feel Laura stiffen, and she looked away from his eyes. “I want that, too.” She began. “I… want that, too.” 

Peter frowned deeply, pulled suddenly short and feeling a painful zap of adrenaline through his gut. “But?” 

“But I don’t… Forever is too much for me right now. Still. I think.” She forced herself to look up at him through tears. The look on her face tore at his heart. “I don’t know if it even exists. I used to. But…”

Once again, Peter crushed Laura to him. “Oh, Sunny. Sunny, forever exists. I know it’s hard for you to believe in now, but I swear to you that forever exists. And we’re going to live in it.”

“You don’t know that,” she challenged, speaking from where her face was buried in his chest and crying now. “You can’t swear that to me. No one can.” 

Peter could feel Laura’s shoulders shaking, and feel her tears soaking into his shirt as he heard her muffled voice. He leaned back and tipped her face up to him. 

“You’re right. We don’t know what might happen. But I know that we love each other, and I will do everything possible to make sure we have a long, long lifetime together. And even if God only gives us five more minutes, I know that I want us to spend those five minutes together. So, even if it’s frightening, even if it scares the living hell out of you, I’m asking you to take a chance on forever with me. Will you?”

Laura looked into Peter’s eyes. Slowly, she nodded. “I will,” she whispered. “Of course I will. I just need you to… be a little patient with me.” 

Peter flashed on the irony of that request, given how long he had waited for Laura. “Lucky for you, I happen to be the patient one.”

She grinned at him, and they took a moment to wipe tears from one another’s faces. “Yes, you are. And you’re the nice one, and the generous one, and, um… you might need that, because there’s one more thing I might need your help with.” 

“Anything.”

“I know what I want. I just… don’t know if I can do it.”

“Tell me.”

“I want to take you to bed, and show you how much I love you.”

He raised a teasing eyebrow. “And you need my help with that?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, yes, but that’s not quite what I meant.“ She hesitated, tiny frown lines appearing in her forehead. “Peter, I… There hasn’t… been anyone since Rafael. I think I’m ready, and there’s no one else I will ever want, but I honestly don’t know how I might feel. I might cry. I might freak out.”

He nodded. “Understood. And no problem. For now, how about if I just kiss you? Because I really need to.”

“Oh, hell, yes. Please, yes…”

As Peter’s strong arms enfolded her, and she moved to put hers around him, Laura felt more tears course down her cheeks. She wasn’t quite sure what the tears meant, maybe a lot of things, but she forgot to worry about it as soon as Peter began to kiss her. Peter. Her Peter. The man she had been in love with for the better part of twenty years. Somehow, her familiarity with his kiss, his taste, the way he moved to capture her lips from every angle, made the newness of being with him even better. She felt all the excitement of a new love, with none of the fumbling or nervousness, because she knew exactly who this man was. And that she was home. For good.

Long, deep kisses blended into one another. Peter reached under Laura and pulled her onto his lap, straddling him, then buried a hand in her thick hair while she cupped his face in her hands. Their breath was coming faster and they were beginning to elicit tiny moans from one another before Peter slowly pulled his mouth from Laura’s and stood with her in his arms.

He carried her into her tiny bedroom and laid her on the bed. He pulled off her shoes and socks, then took his off, and laid down next to her.

“I’m nervous,” she said.

“Having second thoughts?”

“None. Although… It’s been years since you and I… I’m older. I have some scars now. I’m not that girl anymore. What if you –“

“Sunshine.”

“What?”

“Just come here. Just lay here with me for a minute.”

Peter pulled her into the crook of his arm. 

“We don’t have to have sex,” he murmured into her hair. “We don’t have to do anything at all.”

“I want to.”

“I do, too, but you need to relax and let go of all the pressure you’re putting on yourself. Just hang out with me for a while. OK?”

Laura inhaled as deeply as she could, and let her breath out slowly. “OK,” she said.

Peter held Laura with his right arm. He lifted his left hand across his body, offering it to her. She took it. After a few moments, he began slowly, lazily running his thumb across hers. 

“The same years passed for me, too, you know.”

“I know.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m not comparing now to then. But if I did, it would be a favorable comparison. There was stuff between us then. There isn’t now. It wasn’t forever then. It is now.”

Laura stiffened a bit and Peter thought he might have heard just the slightest sharp intake of breath. She raised up to look at him. 

“You OK?” He asked.

“I’ll get there.”

“I’ll be right here. For as long as it takes.”

She took her hand from his and wrapped her right arm around his hard torso, hugging him as best she could while lying in the crook of his arm. “You’re a very kind man, Peter Stone.”

He scooted down so he could be face to face with her, the two now lying side by side, each with an arm draped across the other’s waist. He seemed to have all the time in the world simply to study her, and a warm wave of memory swept over her as she remembered lying with him a thousand times, just like this, all those years ago. 

Long, lazy minutes passed as they lay side by side, before Laura pulled herself closer to Peter, fitting herself back into the crook of his arm. He began to trace patterns with his fingertips barely touching her back, her side, her arm… She could feel herself responding to his nearness, feel the exquisite sensations of his touch on her skin – pinpoints of stimulation just shy of a tickle that brought goosebumps. 

She wondered if he would roll over and kiss her. She wanted him to. She lifted her hand from where it had been softly clasping his waist to begin running her palm over his chest and abdomen, her movements as slow as his. She wriggled closer to him. Still he lay there, softly teasing her skin with his fingertips, and made no move to take things further. It occurred to her that he wouldn’t. He was making himself available, and touching her in ways he knew she liked, but he wasn’t going to push her. She was beginning to be so focused on him, and his scent, and the feel of his body next to hers, she’d almost forgotten that she was supposed to be unsure about this. Suddenly, she was very sure. She wanted him. She wanted this. She smiled, looked up at him, and raised up on her elbow to kiss him. 

_Finally_, he thought. The idea that she might change her mind faded further and further from his consciousness as she kissed him, open mouthed, lifting herself up to get closer to him. He put his hands on either of her hips and lifted her onto him, eagerly returning her kisses. Very soon, she was squirming against him. 

He supposed he would be in that much of a hurry, too, if it had been as long for him as it had been for her. But he was still amused. Laura would never not be impatient. With her, he’d always loved slowing things down, taking the time to enjoy each other, channeling some of her eagerness into exquisite torture. Sometimes, though, he went at her pace, furiously tearing clothes off and leaving scorched earth in a quest for release. That worked because once was rarely enough for either of them. He knew that he could, if he wanted to, give in to her feverish demands without any worry that things would be over too soon. Once satisfied, she would be all too happy to keep going. Which was apparently the only option tonight. She was already straddling him, rolling her hips against him. He smiled inwardly at the impossible joy of having “first time” sex with a woman whose body and desires he knew as well as he knew hers.

He kept his hands on her hips, concentrating on Laura’s taste and listening to her beginning to moan. She began pulling at his shirt, trying to keep her mouth on his, undress him, and grind on him all at the same time. He had the most magnificent body of any man she’d ever known, and he knew exactly how to use it. _Holy shit, she wanted him! Why weren’t his clothes off already? Why weren’t hers?_

She felt him slide her T-shirt dress up over her legs, then her backside, until she had to lift up from him to let him pull it off. It felt like forever that she had to lift her lips from his and let go of him. She laid her chest back down on his as quickly as he got her dress off, recapturing his mouth. She moaned when she felt him unhook her bra. Again, she had to lift up to let him pull it off of her. As she hungrily reconnected with him, he smiled into their kiss when she hastily pulled off her own panties. When she had accomplished that, she felt him grasp her around the hips and shoulders, and roll them both smoothly over so that he was on top of her. 

He let her roughly pull his shirt from him and helped her free him from his jeans. As he’d expected, she wanted him inside her immediately. She moved her hips and moaned, pulling him to her. 

“I should make you wait,” he muttered into her neck, chuckling.

“No, don’t,” she gasped. “Not now…”

He didn’t. They were both ready. He tried to go slowly as he pushed his cock into her, knowing how much bigger he was than she, and remembering that it sometimes took a bit of adjusting for her to take all of him. Not tonight. She was drenched simply from kissing him, and bucked her hips up to meet him. He thrust into her with a grunt.

“I love you,” she cried, pulling his mouth to hers.

“I love you, too,” he moaned into their kiss.

She felt like hot lava around him; the soft yet tight grasp of her exerting a delicious pressure on him. He looked down at her as he began to thrust in and out, pushing away stray locks of hair that had fallen across her nose. She met his eyes, her face a mask of exquisite pleasure as she cried out with each thrust.

“Oh, fuck, Peter, I missed you,” she gasped.

He was suddenly having too hard a time holding off his orgasm to be able to respond beyond a groan. Her frantic writhing against him as he pumped into her was driving him headlong to a climax he wanted to postpone until after he made her come. He tried to think of something else; things he hated like brussels sprouts and golf.

Soon, she slowed her movements almost imperceptibly, and pulled him close, burying her face in his neck. Even though it had been years, he recognized that move, and was quickly confirmed when she began the rhythmic cries that signaled her climax. She whined and shook with pleasure for what seemed like hours, before beginning to relax her grip on him. He had been grinding his teeth, waiting for that cue, and now adjusted his rhythm just a bit until, with a few thrusts, he exploded into her with a deep growl.

Long moments later, he still lay on top of her, the way he knew she liked, as they both tried to regain their breath. They were sweaty, but clung together anyway. When they had sufficiently recovered, he rolled onto his back and pulled her to him. She snuggled up to him, squeezing him with her arm and putting a leg over his, hooking her foot underneath as though to keep him from escaping.

“I guess that answers that question,” she said. 

“Mmm-Hmm,” he agreed, stroking her hair. “I wasn’t worried.” 

“We should have eaten dinner,” she commented.

He knew exactly what she meant. They had a long night ahead of them.

************

Fellatio doesn’t usually make a man nostalgic, Peter thought. But as he lay sprawled, naked, limbs all over Laura’s tiny couch, groaning with pleasure, he was remembering when twenty-year-old Laura had decided that she needed blow job lessons. She wanted him to tell her everything. How does this feel? Do you like that? Do I do it like this? How fast? Peter had been entertained by the whole thing, and had been perfectly willing to provide a hands-on tutorial for her. He actually chuckled a little as he remembered her asking whether he wanted her to “do anything” to his anus. She’d been a nursing student, and had never been comfortable with dirty talk, so she’d actually used that clinical term. It had been adorable. At this very moment, he thought happily that it had been a great investment of time, because she remembered everything.

Laura felt a little guilty that Peter had packed a suitcase and come all the way to Stockholm, only to spend the majority of his time naked in her little flat. Peter didn’t feel guilty about that at all. Stockholm had been there since the 1200s. It would be there for him to visit another time. Besides which, they had to eat, so they’d spent a respectable amount of time out and about, and had even had dinner with Maiken and her girlfriend and the boyfriend candidate twice. (Peter and Laura both had to give the boyfriend candidate a thumbs down. The pink hair was fine, and his atrocious table manners were a matter of personal preference, but he spoke disrespectfully to Maiken and her girlfriend. Next.)

Now, on the last night of Peter’s visit, it was time to talk about next steps. As they sat entangled on the little couch, covered with a blanket, Laura taught Peter the Swedish word _knullrufs_, which means bed hair.

“The Swedes actually have a word for bed hair?”

“They do. They have a lot of words we need in English. And I have to tell you, even your too-short hair is _knullrufs_. Or you have _knullrufs_. I’m not exactly sure how you use the word, I just know it exists.”

“You have _knullrufs_ too, Sunshine.” He smiled and kissed her. Her lips were actually a little sore from all the kissing they’d been doing over the past five days. 

Peter pulled Laura close. “Come home,” he said.

“I am. I will. It’s almost time. But I do have four months left on my contract.”

“Four months.” 

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Will you wait for me?”

Peter actually laughed at that. “I think I can handle that.”

“I’m gonna need a verbal ‘yes’ or ‘no’ for the record, Counselor. Because I really don’t want my first act when I get back to the US to be taking out some babe who’s tryna be in my spot.”

“Your spot will be ready and waiting for you when you get home. It’s been waiting for you for a very long time. I’m confident I can keep any babe from taking it for four short months.”

**************

Laura spent the last months of her two years in Sweden preparing herself to return to Chicago. She felt anxious, afraid that returning would send her back into the state she’d been in when she left. She worried about whether she was ready for the permanent, committed relationship she wanted with Peter. 

She talked all of this over with the grief counselor she’d begun seeing when she had finally felt able to try, about six months after arriving in Stockholm. But some of the most helpful conversations she had during these last four months were with her priest at St. Eugenia’s in Norrmalm. Father Piär was around eighty years old, and had endured his share of tragedy in his own life. 

After Laura had cried through Mass every Sunday for two months, he had approached her to offer his help. She told him that her husband had recently been murdered, but that she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Father Piär nodded understanding and asked her to allow him to pray with her. So they had knelt together in a pew and Father Piär had prayed aloud while Laura cried. Over the next few months, they had done that same thing after Mass most weeks and, when he felt it was right, Father Piär had then shared the story of his own loss. He had been married, too, and his wife and two children - his entire family - had been killed in a car accident. He told Laura all the things he’d felt at the time, which had shocked her because he had felt the same things she had, including a tremendously shaken faith and a seemingly irreconcilable anger at God. Not only had he survived his grief and rage, he had regained his faith and his love for God to such an extent that he had committed his life to the priesthood. Laura began to understand that she might eventually find her way through her loss. From there, Father Piär had helped Laura to slowly, fearfully work through the worst of the damage from Rafael’s death.

Now, during those last four months, Father Piär helped Laura dare to look forward, to find the courage to believe in forever again. In some ways, that was even harder than dealing with the past. But he felt confident she would make it. She had come a long way in the last two years. She was ready to go home. And she was ready to love again. 

Laura was reminded of her conversation about faith with Sonny Carisi on the day she had left New York. She couldn’t wait to see him, and all the rest of the SVU squad. When she returned to the US, she was going to stop in New York to stay with Lucia for three days, and Sonny was already planning the menu for a huge meal at Amanda’s apartment.

[1] Hi, when you are excited to see someone


	56. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the love of Peter Stone's life returns to Chicago to be with him forever.

Laura knocked quietly on the door of Lucia’s apartment in the Bronx, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and sadness. They had kept in touch, of course, for the two years Laura had been away, although after those first, hellish months, they hadn’t spoken quite as often. Laura fully expected that they would spend time during this visit crying over their mutual loss, and she didn’t dread that. In fact, she and Lucia hadn’t been able to hug while they cried in all the time Laura had been gone. Since the crying part was probably inevitable, Laura thought it would be nice to be able to put her arms around Rafael’s mother while they shared their pain. 

Lucia had tried to understand Laura’s need to run away. At first, she had been confused and a bit hurt that Laura wouldn’t be in New York, where they could comfort one another. Over the two weeks after Rafi’s death, however, as they had worked feverishly together to do all the horrible tasks that have to be done when someone dies, Lucia had seen in Laura a fear that she herself didn’t feel. Laura was not only grieving the past, she was also terrified of the future. Lucia wasn’t. Partly, the difference was that Laura was young, and had to figure out who to be, now that she had been left without the partner she’d chosen to spend her life with. Rafael’s death had fundamentally changed who Laura was. That wasn’t true for Lucia. Losing her child, adult though he had been, didn’t change Lucia’s identity as his mother. The other difference was that having another child wasn’t an option for Lucia, so she didn’t have to find the courage to try again. 

Over the past two years, something had happened that neither of them had expected. As much as they had liked being mother- and daughter-in-law, they found that they also enjoyed being friends. Lucia still felt motherly toward Laura, who also loved Lucia like a second mother. But helping one another through their greatest loss had also forged a deep, lasting friendship between them as women. Rafael was always there, between them, a shared love that united them. But they found that, slowly and in stages, their conversations branched out to involve the rest of their lives, as well. It was a lovely connection that allowed them to keep Rafael close – the two women who had loved him the most – and also allowed each of them to enjoy the other for her own sake.

When Lucia opened the door, she and Laura hugged (and cried) for a very long time before Laura even crossed the threshold.

*************

Dinner at Amanda’s had started at breakfast time. Laura wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friends from SVU, so they’d arranged to meet at the zoo in Central Park, where the kids could play while the parents talked. Laura was shocked by how much they’d grown; both Fin’s grandson, Jaden, and Amanda’s daughter, Billie, were talking already. They weren’t speaking full sentences, but they were certainly able to make their needs known. Amanda’s daughter Jessie and Olivia’s son Noah both had vague memories that they had an “Aunt Lala”, but had really been too young to remember Laura. It was great fun to get re-acquainted with them, and to discover Jaden’s and Billie’s personalities, made easier by the fact that Sonny Carisi was, by far, the kids’ favorite person and knew everything about them. As soon as they saw that Sonny liked Laura, they decided to like her, too. 

While the older kids ran around like maniacs and the littler ones alternated between mania and meltdowns, the adults caught up. Laura had cried as soon as she saw Fin, which she’d known she would. He tried to play it cool, but the tightness of his hug and the amount of time it lasted told her he was just as glad to see her.

“Any idea what you’re gonna do when you get back to Chicago?” He asked.

“I have a few leads. I really loved the work I did for the feds; I might want to do something with computer crimes. Or maybe I’ll go to the dark side and make a mint working in cybersecurity. Regular hours, no one shoots at me…”

“Yeah, but you’d never get to go off on anyone. Remember Reginald Skoggs? You love that shit,” Fin laughed.

“Oh, man, I haven’t thought about him in years. But you’re right, that was fun. Remember I had to change my clothes before Barba saw all the blood?” 

Fin laughed at that, too, and Laura noticed that the whole group seemed to relax a little, knowing that it was all right to mention Rafael’s name. 

“What I remember is you still owe me fifty bucks for not tellin’ Barba what you did.” 

Laura feigned a blank look. “I don’t remember that.”

“Yeah, sure you don’t.” Fin threw an arm around her neck and gave her a rough hug. “Punk-ass kid.” 

All morning and afternoon, the SVU detectives shared stories of cases they’d worked and listened as Laura told them what she’d been doing. Laura wanted to hear every story about the kids. They had so much to talk about that it was actually after lunch by the time the conversation neared the subject of Rafael’s murder.

Olivia moved so that she was walking next to Laura while they headed toward the Polar Circle, where the penguins – the kids’ favorite - lived. 

“I thought we’d get to see you for Randolph’s trial. I wasn’t surprised to see him plead out, but I was sorry to miss out on a visit from you.” 

“Thanks, Lieu. I knew he’d take a plea. McCoy was going to bury him no matter what, so I think he just figured he’d save himself the trouble. For a sweet man, Jack McCoy can be a scary SOB when he’s crossed.”

“Yes, he can,” Olivia agreed. 

“Anyway, it was better that way. I really wasn’t ready to come back until pretty recently. In fact, I might have stayed longer, except…”

“Yeah, I heard. You know, until Rollins told me the whole story, I just thought you and Stone were oddly close.” 

“And you were right about that,” Laura laughed. 

While Jaden and Billie napped hard in their strollers, Fin sat with them and napped a little, too. Liv and Amanda kept a close eye on Jessie and Noah, and Laura and Carisi stood leaning on poured concrete rocks, watching the penguins. 

“So I’m looking at all these kinds of penguins, particularly the macaroni penguin, which is really the coolest of penguinkind, and I’m thinkin’ that right there is evidence that God has a sense of humor.”

“Hmmmm. Deep, Carisi. I don’t disagree, but I’m thinking whoever named them macaroni penguins gets an honorable mention.”

“Yeah, I could go there,” Sonny shrugged. “And since you didn’t throw me over these rocks into the water, I hope that means that maybe you and God have made up a little?” 

Laura thought for a minute. “There was this priest in Stockholm, Father Piär. He helped. Probably not as much as you, but he did OK.” She bumped Carisi fondly with her shoulder. 

“I don’t know that I helped any, but thanks.”

“Sure you did. And I appreciate it. I owe you.” Laura didn’t want the day to turn maudlin, so she changed the subject. “So I noticed in your emails, you never mentioned any dates. You didn’t become a monk or something, did you?” 

“Nah,” Sonny blushed. “I just like to play things close to the vest, y’know?”

“Well, don’t. Tell me. I want to know you’re happy.”

The smile on Sonny’s face, and the crinkles around his bright blue eyes told Laura that he would never want for romantic companionship for long. “There’s no one special right now, but… I’ve kinda been thinkin’ I’m getting a little old for dates. Dean got married, you know.”

“I hadn’t heard that!”

“Yeah, married a surgeon. They’re in L.A. now. Anyway, I’ve been thinking I might be in the market for someone, you know, more permanent.”

“Any candidates?”

“Not right now. But who knows?”

“Just don’t get serious about anyone until I get to check them out. Don’t rely solely on Amanda’s judgment.”

“If I have to wait until Amanda approves someone, I might as well hang it up right now.”

The rest of the afternoon went on like that, everyone enjoying the day and Laura getting a chance to talk one-on-one with each of them.

At dinner, there was plenty of wine and entirely too much food. Sonny made something no one could pronounce, but it was so good everyone ate until they couldn’t possibly take one more bite. Lucia joined them, and they all enjoyed themselves. To Laura, it felt as though she’d never been away, which was just a little bittersweet, because it meant she kept expecting Rafael to walk in at any time. 

There was a sweet moment when Olivia was telling a story about an argument she and Rafael had, and Noah asked, “Is Rafael the same as Uncle Rafa?” 

Olivia told him that he was.

“I ‘member him,” Noah said. “He used to sing the pirate song.” 

As much as Laura had needed to leave New York to escape the constant reminders of Rafael, it was lovely, now that she could, to be able to talk about him with people who had known and loved him. There were a hundred stories about funny, biting comments he had made, demonstrations of his undeniable abilities, and his courtroom coups. Lucia told some hilarious, adorable stories about him as a child that he would never have allowed her to tell, had he been there. They all laughed, and shed a few tears, and toasted his memory. The entire day was as special as any of them had hoped, and it was a perfect way for Laura to acknowledge the life she had loved in New York before she went on to begin a new life back in Chicago.

Amanda waited with Laura and Lucia at the curb for their taxi back to the Bronx. She and Laura had exchanged many hugs throughout the day, but it still didn’t feel like enough. They sat, side by side on Amanda’s stoop, with Amanda’s arm around Laura’s shoulder.

“Just remember, you need me to shoot Stone, I can make it look like an accident.”

“I thought it was Rafael you offered to shoot.”

“It was, but you never took me up on it, so I still owe you. But I’m kinda hopin’ you don’t ever need me to shoot Stone, either. ‘Cuz you look happy. And I like seein’ that.”

“Me, too.”

“You take care of yourself, Parker. You know you always have a home here, if you want it.”

They hugged yet again, both smiling, and Amanda pulled Lucia into the hug with them.

**********

The flight from New York to Chicago had seemed very short after the flight from Stockholm. And now, Laura was home. She smiled even as tears spilled over, looking out the window of the airplane at the familiar landscape. 

She walked through the concourse toward Baggage Claim. She reached the main terminal, passed the security checkpoint, and descended the stairs toward the row of baggage carousels, some surrounded by people and spitting out luggage which then circled slowly, some still and silent. She idly looked out over the scene as she walked down the stairs.

She froze on the last step, her heart doing some sort of somersault in her chest and a large swarm of butterflies taking sudden flight in her stomach. She whispered an involuntary, “Peter.”

She stood, unmoving, staring at the tall, beautiful man standing near the baggage carousel for her flight. As always, his muscular, athletic build and his square, masculine jaw stirred a deep longing in her. She stared almost helplessly at him, just as she had done that day years before, when she saw him in the lobby at District 21, waiting for an appointment with Sergeant Voight. She realized with a surge of love that the pain of missing Peter was over. She was home now, with him, and there was no longer anything to keep them apart.

His hair was longer than it had been when she’d last seen him. It looked so good she instantly wanted to run her hands through it. Had he let it grow for her, knowing she liked it that way? Only when he looked up at her, perhaps sensing her staring at him, did Laura take the last stair and begin to move through the crowd toward him as his face broke into a wide smile.

They didn’t say anything at first as they came face to face, just took a moment to smiled at one another before they wrapped their arms around each other in a long, contented embrace. People looked at them, some annoyed at these fools locked in a marathon hug in the middle of baggage claim, some grinning shyly at the apparently very happy reunion. Peter and Laura ignored them all. Somewhere in the middle of their embrace, they began to share whispered “I love you’s” among heartfelt endearments.

There were plenty of kisses and laughing as they collected Laura’s luggage and walked, talking animatedly, out to Peter’s car. With so much to carry - suitcases, Laura’s guitar, her carry-on - they hadn’t been able to hold hands or put arms around each other as they walked, and with each step, Laura found herself more aware of wanting to touch Peter. She noticed again his hair, just a bit shaggy, and the way it made her think of him in bed. She watched the sexy way he walked, so athletic and confident, legs wide and striding quickly. As Peter stored the luggage in the back of a new SUV he’d purchased at some point after he’d returned from New York, Laura stood close to him, just wanting to be near him and eager to have her arms around him again. 

He slammed the gate down and pulled her to him. As he leaned down to press his lips to hers, she breathed in his scent: a clean, masculine smell of soap and a little bit of musky cologne highlighting a warmer, savory essence that Laura thought of as just plain man. She reached up, sliding one hand into the hair at the back of his head and using the other to hold him close. As their mouths met in heated haste, Peter’s arms encircling Laura completely, she felt herself pressed against the back of the vehicle. She moved her legs to more fully melt their bodies together, feeling lust overcoming her sense of anything beyond Peter. He felt warm and firm, large and muscular, the beginnings of his erection evident as he moved against her.

He broke the kiss when they started to lose control of the sounds being drawn from them and the wantonness of their hip movements. 

“Get in the car,” he growled, and they quickly separated to slide into their seats. Before even thinking about putting on seat belts, they turned to each other and their mouths met once again for the kind of kisses they really wanted, but couldn’t indulge in publicly. Their intimate caresses became quickly more serious, more heated, and soon they were both moaning as Peter’s tongue teased Laura’s. Minutes later, Laura slid a hand up the inside of Peter’s thigh. 

He took her hand from his leg, lifting it to his lips and kissing her fingers, chuckling. “You missed me.”

“I missed you like crazy. And I want you. Let me…”

“Not here.”

“Please? We could get in the back…”

“I am not going to have sex with you in an airport parking garage,” Peter said, a little more gruffly than he meant to, because he was having some trouble resisting her suggestion in his current agitated state.

“It wouldn’t be the first time. I think it was even this garage. Remember when you went -“

“That was… We were in our twenties then.” He consciously tried to slow his breathing.

“And? What are you, a grown-up now?” Laura leaned in and began kissing Peter’s neck, slipping her hand from his and reaching toward his crotch. “Come on. I love you, and I’ve been thinking about you nonstop. Let me touch you…” she purred.

“Stop,” he said, laughing but taking her hand again. “I mean it. You can do anything you want to me when we get home. Now behave.”

She moved back into her seat, pretending to be grumpy as she fastened her seat belt. “Behave. Since when have I ever behaved?” 

“Just be patient. I’ll make it worth your while.” Peter gave her a look that did nothing to cool her arousal. “I promise.”

Seeing that he wasn’t going to relent, Laura settled into her seat, smiling contentedly. “It’s good to be home.”

“It’s good to have you home,” Peter agreed, reaching for her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers. 

The city looked beautiful to Laura, even in the dreariness of late fall. There was a weak sunlight through breaks in the clouds, and there were still some trees with bright fall foliage here and there. Mostly, the city looked good to her because she had been homesick. She noticed a new building going up on the downtown skyline and pointed it out to Peter, asking where, exactly, it was. When he told her, she scrunched up her eyebrows. “Wait, doesn’t that mean… didn’t you miss your exit? I thought you lived in the Fulton River District.”

“I did,” he responded, looking at the road. “I moved.”

“You moved? You didn’t tell me you moved. When did you move?”

“A few months ago. Didn’t I tell you?”

“No. How do you move, and not tell me?”

“I must’ve forgot. I told you, I’ve been crazy busy these last few months.”

Laura frowned. This was strange. Moving is not something you forget to mention. “Where do you live now?”

“Wilmette.”

“Wilmette! You do not.”

Peter smiled and chuckled a little, but kept his eyes on the road. “I do, actually. You’ll see.”

“Peter, you… that’s… I can’t believe you moved to Wilmette and didn’t tell me.”

“I thought you liked Wilmette?”

“I do. We both do. Remember, we used to talk about living there someday. That’s why I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry, Sunshine. Really. I guess I thought I had.” He lifted her hand from the console where their clasped hands had been resting and kissed it for about the hundredth time since they’d left O’Hare.

Laura shrugged slightly, but she was still uneasy. He had told her that he’d been extremely busy over the months since he’d visited her in Stockholm, and with all that had happened between them, maybe he really had forgotten. But it still struck her as a very strange thing not to mention.

Several miles later, Peter exited the freeway and drove through the Village of Wilmette, a clean, leafy, cute midwestern town with lots of small shops and other businesses lining the streets. He turned into a neighborhood of pretty houses, many of them brick, all set back from the street behind well-maintained front lawns with trees and shrubs. Most of the houses had flower gardens up next to their foundations, although this late in the year there weren’t any flowers blooming. He turned into an idyllic, peaceful street and began to slow down.

“You’re messing with me,” she said. “You bought a _house_?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling over against the curb. “We’re here.” 

The house he pointed to was two a story brick, with copper awnings covered with verdigris over bay windows, one on either side of a rounded front door that sat at the top of a set of two steps. There was a little patio in front of the door with wrought iron railings on either side. There was a chimney to one side, and it looked like there was another chimney at the back. Peter got out of the car and came around to open Laura’s door as she simply sat and stared.

“Do you like it?” He asked, a sweet, expectant smile on his face that almost hid a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

Laura stepped out onto the curb and stood, looking at the charming house. “You didn’t forget to tell me you bought a house.”

He shrugged, pleased with her reaction. “Maybe not. Maybe I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Peter, this is your _house_? It’s beautiful! It’s perfect! You really _live_ here?”

“Got the mortgage to prove it,” he said, taking her hand. “C’mon. I want to show it to you. We’ll get the luggage later.” 

When they reached the door, he opened it and then turned to her and lifted her up with one arm behind her back and one behind her legs. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m carrying you over the threshold.”

All Laura could think to do was laugh. This was… bizarre. Unreal.

They stood in a small foyer with a flagstone floor, a little table with a lamp on it just inside. Something about the table or the lamp, or maybe both, looked familiar to her, but she was so curious to see Peter’s house that she didn’t give it much thought. The foyer gave onto a short hallway.

The first room they came to was a formal living room with a couch and some wingback chairs arranged around a fireplace. There was something about the room that seemed… Then she noticed the painting of a cottage in the English countryside over the fireplace. 

“I have that same painting,” she said, her voice a little unsure. “I’ve never noticed that in your apartments, did you just get it?”

“Sort of. Let me show you the rest of the house.”

He led her past the living room to the end of the short hall, which opened onto a large, sunny great room at the back of the house. The room had a pleasant kitchen separated by a span of granite countertop from a family area with another fireplace. Laura was astounded, her head swimming at the surprise of Peter owning a house in Wilmette, and the perfectness of the house itself. 

“Oh, Peter, this is great! It’s… I love it! Is this actually a wood-burning fireplace?”

“Yep.” 

Again, Laura had an odd feeling about the room. It seemed like she’d been there before. 

“This is so weird. I’m having the weirdest sense of _déjà vu_. I know I’ve never been here before… Holy shit, I know what it is!”

She turned to him to find him grinning like a fool. 

“Peter, your house is just like the one we used to talk about. Remember? When we lived in that fifth-floor walk-up in Evanston. Now all you need is a dog named Marshall.”

Peter, now actually laughing, cocked his head toward a sliding glass door that led from the kitchen out to a patio. “Back yard.” 

Laura felt herself go numb. Her eyes got big and she just stood where she was, a confused expression on her face. Her voice was shaky as she asked, “What’s going on?”

Peter went to the door and opened it. “Come on. Meet Marshall.”

She almost stumbled as she moved, uncertain and overwhelmed, over to him. He put an arm around her back, enjoying every second of her reaction, but a little worried this might all be a bit too much. He led her out onto the wooden patio, which had two sets of steps down to a small back yard shielded from any neighbors by high hedges. She noticed movement to one side, and her eyes fixed on a red doghouse from which a Yellow Labrador Retriever puppy was sleepily emerging. The puppy saw Peter and ran to the stairs, a little small yet to climb them easily. 

“Oh, look at you! You’re so cute!” Laura hurried over to pick up the puppy, who immediately began to lick all over her face. She looked at Peter, eyes still wide, confusion and disbelief still very much evident. “How old is he?”

“_She_ is about three months old.”

“You named a girl puppy Thurgood Marshall?”

“I had to. That’s the name we picked out.”

“I… what?”

Laura had just enough presence of mind to notice that Peter’s smile was heartrendingly handsome. He was looking at her, holding the puppy, as though he was a child on Christmas morning catching his first sight of what Santa had brought.

“C’mon, let’s sit here for a minute.” He sat her down on the stairs that led from the deck to the yard and settled next to her, their legs touching for their full lengths and his arm around her. 

“You OK?” He chuckled.

“I… You bought a house.” She looked up at him just as the shocked, confused look on her face was replaced by something else. “That picture.”

“Hmmmm?” He asked, grinning again.

“That’s mine, isn’t it?”

“It was. Now it’s ours.”

“Did you…? What did you do?”

“We moved you in. Everything you had in storage, we moved in here. This is _your_ house. Well, _our_ house.” The grin became a radiant smile.

“Our house.”

“That’s right. You live here. With me.”

Peter realized he should have found a way to record this moment. Her face was registering every emotion that tumbled through her head. He would have liked to be able to watch it again and again, for the rest of his life. 

“But… Who’s ‘we’? Who helped you move everything in?”

“Do you really have to ask that question? I could never have finished getting everything ready for you if your whole family hadn’t helped.”

“_Our_ family.”

“_Our_ family.”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. Peter, this is…” She reached for him. “I’ve been telling you for twenty years that I love you, but I’ve never loved you like I do now. And not just because you bought me a house. I don’t know how to say a bigger I love you, but… I love you bigger! They don’t have a word for how I feel about you. So how am I supposed to tell you?” Laura’s eyes were overflowing with tears as she laughed into Peter’s shoulder.

“I know how,” he said quietly.

Marshall had been frolicking around their feet as they sat on the stair, and Peter reached out to her, taking hold of a little white ribbon tied to her collar, which Laura hadn’t really noticed. He untied it and something that had been attached to it fell into his hand. As he reached behind himself to take Laura’s left hand, she gasped. He pulled her hand to him and held a small gold band with a solitary diamond shining in the middle just off the end of her ring finger.

Laura laughed again through her tears and said, “Yes. Yes, yes, YES!”

Peter laughed, too. “Always so impatient. I haven’t asked you yet.”

He took a deep breath, wanting to give this moment the seriousness it deserved. As he looked into her eyes, he said, “I love you, Laura. Will you marry me? Will you make a family with me? Be the mother of my children?” 

“Yes,” she whispered, suddenly unable to speak. 

She watched as he slipped the ring onto her finger. “Peter,” she gasped, “Is this… This is… This is our ring. From before.”

“Yeah, I know. We’ll get a real one, I just needed one to propose with.”

“We will _not_ get a real one,” she cried, suddenly finding her voice as she threw her arms around him again. “_This_ is the real one. You kept this ring, all these years… You will have to pry this ring off my finger.”

For the next several minutes, Marshall became increasingly excited because Peter and Laura were paying no attention to her. They were too focused on each other, laughing, hugging, kissing, and telling each other over and over how much they loved each other.

“Peter, stop. I can’t! This is too much. I’m gonna explode or have some sort of neurological event from happiness overload…” Laura laughed breathlessly. “How many of my dreams are you planning to make come true?

“All of them,” he answered. “Didn’t I tell you?”


	57. Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone's waiting is finally over, and his patience rewarded, as he marries the love of his life.

Peter and Laura were still sitting on the deck of their new house, basking in the glow of their engagement while their puppy, Marshall, tried to get her share of their attention.

“When can we get married?” Laura asked before continuing to sprinkle kisses all over Peter’s face, giggling as she did.

“Tomorrow. Wednesday at the latest.” Peter turned his face so that he could steal a proper kiss.

“It’ll have to be a pretty low-key wedding, then,” she muttered against his lips.

He pulled slightly back and frowned. “Maybe next week then. I want a big wedding, with everything. In church.”

“We probably can’t make that happen before Wednesday,” she responded, leaning in to recapture his mouth with hers. Laura didn’t need a big wedding, but if Peter wanted one, she would make it happen. 

Peter smoothed a hand over Laura’s hair, keeping his face very close to hers, but breaking the kiss so that he could look into her eyes. “So be it. But I’m married to you starting right now.”

_When would he stop saying things so wonderful they brought tears to her eyes? _

“And I’m married to you,” she managed, shaky though her voice suddenly was. 

“Till death do us part.”

“Amen,” she breathed.

Several long minutes of deep, slow, and promising kisses followed before Peter chuckled softly.

“Why are we making out on these steps when I bought us an entire house to make out in?”

“About that.” Laura looked at him mock-seriously. “Is it really my house, too?”

“That’s how married works.”

“Then I have a suggestion. Actually, it’s more of a demand.”

“Of course it is,” Peter laughed fondly, standing and offering her a hand up.

As they stepped back into the house, careful of Marshall as she scampered inside with them, Laura said, “I want to make love to you in every room. And on the stairs. And in the garage. Is there an attic? The attic, too.”

“Hmmmm. I appreciate your confidence in me, but that might be kind of a tall order, Sunshine. Is there a time frame for this project?”

She turned and put her arms around his waist, looking up at him with sheer joy. “Well, I don’t want to hurt you. We’ll take breaks. You know, to hydrate and stuff.”

Laughing, Peter said, “I can’t say no to you. Let me show you the rest of the house, and you can choose where you want to start.”

Peter walked Laura around the house, which wasn’t large, but had all the space they could need. He showed her the rest of the downstairs rooms, which included an office where he could work from home when he chose, then took her upstairs to show her that, in addition to the master bedroom and bath, there were two smaller bedrooms with a jack-and-jill bathroom between them. Neither room had any furniture in it at the moment.

Laura stood looking thoughtfully around, an arm around Peter’s waist. She had been exclaiming over everything, telling him over and over in thrilled exclamations how much she loved the house. Now, she spoke more quietly, maybe even a little wistfully.

“I guess these are for the little Stones.”

“I hope so.” 

She turned to put her other arm around him, looking up at him. “Is this real? Do I really get to be married to you and live in this perfect house and have babies and a Yellow Lab named Marshall? I’m not going to wake up, am I?”

“Nope. It’s real, Sunshine.”

A series of progressively more intimate caresses later, Peter reminded Laura that they hadn’t seen the basement or the garage yet.

“Do you think we should take a break first?” She pressed her body to his. “You’re looking awfully good right this minute.”

“You don’t want to see the rest of your house?”

“I’m more interested in seeing the rest of my husband at the moment.”

“Come on. I have one more surprise.” His smile was so childishly excited that she couldn’t resist, and followed him down the stairs. In the kitchen, Peter opened a door and flicked on a light so that Laura could see that it led to an attached garage. Inside was a shiny, compact red sedan.

“Ooh, what a cute car! But what do you need two cars for?”

“I don’t. That one’s yours. You live in the ‘burbs now, Sunshine, you’re gonna need one. Dan picked it out for you.”

“It’s _mine_?”

“Yep. Do you like it?”

“I _love_ it!” She hopped down the few stairs into the garage and began exploring the car, laughing and squealing as she discovered different features. After a short time, though, her mind turned back to Peter. She was more than ready to get her hands on him.

“Is this your last surprise? Because you’ve already spoiled me way too much. I really don’t think I can take any more. How am I supposed to thank you for-” she gestured around her. “All this?” 

For Peter, the fun of watching her discover all the things he’d done to begin their life together was well worth the untold hours and days he had put into it. Still, like Laura, he was feeling ready to settle in one room and get serious about the kissing and touching they’d started and stopped several times since the airport.

“C’mon. One more room. And after that, I have some ideas about how you can thank me. Besides, by then I will have exhausted my ability to resist you in that skirt.”

He led her across the great room to a stairway with a wrought-iron railing, leading down. As the stairway turned for the last few steps, Laura saw a finished basement room that perhaps could become a den, but currently had very little furniture in it. Through a door, she glimpsed a laundry room beyond. Of the sparse furniture in the main room, by far the largest and most noticeable piece was an ugly, flowered couch.

“No. You did not let her foist this monstrosity on you.”

“Us,” Peter corrected.

“Us.”

“What could I say? Remember what you told her about it? She said that, now that we’re together, it’s a memento. I was trapped.”

Laura erupted in laughter, going over to sit on the floral couch and bouncing with glee. “Well, then we have no choice,” she announced.

“What?”

“This couch. This room. It’s where we have to start. Because then what I told my Mom would kind of be true. Sort of. I mean, it’ll be our first time in this house…”

“Sunshine, there is not a court in the world that would buy that argument.”

“I don’t care. I’m too happy. I’m so happy, and so in love with you, that I can even make love to you on this horror of a couch, as long as you let me take your clothes off. I tend not to pay attention to anything else when you’re naked.”

“I can do that.” 

Laura patted the seat next to her. “Come here.”

Peter happily complied. Almost immediately, Laura pushed him back so that he was half-lying, and began to remove the soft, grey Henley he wore, sliding her hands underneath it and up his torso while her lips softly but insistently moved against his. He helped her pull his shirt off, but sat back up and, with his hands on either side of her waist, moved her to stand in front of him, between his legs. He looked into her eyes as he slowly, lightly slid his hands up her legs and under the hem of the short, frayed denim skirt she wore. He stroked up her thighs and over her hips, until his fingers reached the waistband of her panties. Then he lazily, deliberately began to slide them down, never breaking eye contact as his hands stroked languidly back down her hips, down her thighs, drawing the silky fabric with them until they dropped to the floor. 

Once again, his hands began the slow, sensual glide up her legs. She had been on low-level simmer since he’d backed her up against his SUV at the airport. Now, she felt a demanding, throbbing heat and a desperate need to feel him touching her. He caressed the back of her thighs, running his hands up under her skirt to cup the curves of her backside. He fondled her gently, alternating soft squeezes with light, teasing rubs, and moving his fingertips so that they kept promising to slide between her legs, but never quite touched her where she needed him to.

“Lay down,” she whispered, moving so that he could lift his legs onto the couch. She knelt with one knee between his legs and, as slowly as she could given the intense heat he had ignited at her core, she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. She let her fingers brush against him, feeling the hot firmness of him through his boxer briefs. But she didn’t take his pants off, as he’d expected her to. Instead, she flattened her hands out on his skin, just above the waistline of his jeans, and ran them slowly up his body, reveling in the hard muscles of his abdomen and chest. She ended up kneeling above him, one knee on the couch and one foot on the floor, hands resting beneath him on either side of his chest, making contact with his body only with her mouth. 

First, she kissed him deeply, running her tongue along his bottom lip and then slipping it inside his mouth to play with his. He groaned and splayed his hands across her back, but she didn’t lower her body onto his. Instead, she began to kiss his jaw, slow kisses punctuated by occasional flicks with the tip of her tongue, down to his throat. 

“You are so fucking sexy,” she murmured, kissing across his Adam’s apple to softly slide her lips down the other side of his neck. “I love you, Peter Stone. I love our house… and I love our dog… and I love our car…”

She continued the light touch of her lips and incidental tiny licks, taking her time while she breathed in the intoxicating scent of him.

Panting, he pulled at her light sweater as she slipped her feet out of the soft flats she wore. She let him take her sweater off, dropping it without a thought to the floor as he reached for her again, but she continued running her lips across his skin, now having reached his shoulder. Softly and slowly, she kissed and licked from one side, across his broad upper chest, to the other, then leaned all of her weight on one arm so that she could use her other hand to caress his glorious body. She stroked up his arm, across his chest, down tantalizingly close to the open fly of his jeans, to his waist and flank. He felt like a statute, like marble wrapped in warm, soft leather. 

He could run his hands along her arms and down her back, and could slide the backs of his fingers up her belly and across her chest, but the angle was wrong for him to be able to take her breasts into his hands as he wanted to. He slid the tips of his fingers inside the cups of her bra, teasing her as she was teasing him. But she was in control. She moved her knee slightly so that her thigh was slanted across his crotch as she continued her slow exploration of his upper body with her mouth. As intended, he began to rub against her leg. 

She kissed her way to his nipple, flicking her tongue across it and feeling an answering flinch. With the fingertips of her free hand, she teased his other nipple to hardness. He was making soft sounds in the back of his throat - not quite moans yet, but definitely sounds of pleasure - as she played with his sensitive nipples.

“Fuck, Sunny,” he whispered. 

The problem with making love to Peter was, his body was so beautiful, and he smelled so good, and made such unbearably erotic noises, it was almost impossible not to rub herself against him as she ripped off his jeans to take his lovely cock in her mouth. She wanted to please him, to draw out the delicious sensations until he was desperate for her, but he made her just as desperate for him without doing anything but reacting. She willed herself to go slowly as she made her way, lips grazing across his ribs, down his torso. 

He was now rolling his hips, trying to reestablish contact with her so he could rub his hardening cock against any part of her he could reach, but she had moved further down and was again touching him only with her mouth. She took her time kissing and licking her way down his abdomen until he reached down, groaning, and gently pushed on her shoulders. 

Laura relented, hardly more in control than he was, and softly mouthed his now-hard cock through his boxer briefs. The scent of him, after so many months, warm and musky and spicy, was too much. She nuzzled him for as long as she could stand it before reaching up and tugging his jeans and briefs together down his hips. She stood up just long enough to pull them off his legs, along with his shoes, and dropped it all to the floor. Then, pulling her denim skirt up her thighs, she slid a leg between Peter’s hip and the back of the couch, straddling him. 

He put a hand on either of Laura’s hips, pulling the skirt up so that it bunched uselessly around her waist, and tried to guide her to him, but she gave a wicked chuckle as she leaned over him. 

“Who’s impatient now?” She asked, covering his mouth with her own and sliding herself, hot and slippery, up his shaft to begin rubbing small, fiery circles across his dripping head.

“I am,” he growled, gripping her more firmly and moving his hips to try to enter her. “Now, fuck me.”

“Say please,” she teased.

“Please,” he gasped, pulling her onto his cock with one hand across her lower back while moving the other to her hair to crush her mouth to his. 

Laura felt a dull, exquisite ache as her body stretched to take him in. It took just a moment to slide herself all the way down onto him, both of them crying out with the long-delayed sensation. Peter lifted her up, hands on her hips, and began an insistent rhythm. She used her hands, braced on either side of him, to hold her weight while she followed his thrusts. He took a moment to, none too gently, remove her bra and toss it to the floor, then pulled her down against him. The pace and intensity of their rutting became more furious. Laura moved her hips to change the angle at which her clit was rubbing against him, beginning to gasp with each thrust.

Peter knew she was about to come apart.

“Say my name,” he hissed, pounding into her as his own climax neared. “I wanna hear you say my name when you come.”

“Peter… fuck… I’m so close, I… Peter!” She called his name several times between cries of ecstasy, pushing him to explode into her with his own long, loud shout.

They took a long break to lie together, wrecked but recovering, laughing quietly and enjoying the sensation of being together, in their own house, married (unofficially, for the moment). After a half hour or so, they padded into the laundry room to find something to clean themselves up with, and Peter helped Laura take off the skirt they hadn’t gotten around to removing. Which led to more touching, which led to him lifting her up and, with her legs wrapped around him, inaugurating the laundry room with Laura’s back against the wall. 

Back up in the kitchen, they took some time to share a sandwich and a can of soda before Peter set Laura on the granite countertop and tongue-fucked her into oblivion. There was some discussion about whether to have sex in the garage but, without too much trouble, Laura convinced Peter it was necessary and gave him the blow job of his life in the back seat of her new car.

And so it went. They were tired and - although they didn’t admit it to each other - a little sore when they finally made it to bed that night. But it was entirely worth it.

*************

Mark Jeffries had actually had people come to him to ask what was going on with Peter Stone. The rumors were wild, and Mark enjoyed hearing them, but he always firmly corrected them. It had been a shock when Stone had taken a vacation the previous Christmas, but besides commenting that it was odd to see him actually out of the office, no one said much. But then, six months later, he had taken another vacation. That _was_ weird. Two vacations in one year for a guy whom no one could remember ever taking a day off? 

Then, the first thing Stone had done upon returning from Stockholm was to hire another attorney and two paralegals. He started to delegate a lot of work that he would previously have done himself, although as Bureau Chief, he could have been delegating it all along. He started to assign ASAs other than himself to sit first chair at more trials – even some fairly big ones. They were more than capable, he’d just always taken more than his share of the workload. And although he was, as always, already in the office working when everyone else arrived, he started to leave before they did. Peter Stone had never left the office at a normal hour. Ever. 

But when, after returning from that second vacation to Stockholm, he had started to take a lot of time off - sometimes just one day, sometimes several in a row – without explanation, that was when people began to speculate, and eventually a few intrepid souls approached the State’s Attorney to find out what was going on.

Because Stone was different, too. The ice-cold, humorless automaton made jokes. _ Jokes_. He let his hair grow longer than they’d ever seen it. He listened to people talk about their personal lives, and he actually asked questions. He laughed at the slightest provocation. Things that would previously have earned a subordinate a severe tongue-lashing started to result in a two-sided conversation, instead. But the weirdest thing, the thing that let people know that something was definitely going on with him, was the smiling. Stone smiled. Like, _all the time_. Had his assistant not been extremely discreet and loyal, she could have told people that sometimes he smiled and laughed when he was all alone in his office. 

Mark knew why. He knew that Peter had bought a house shortly after returning from Stockholm, and had spent a lot of time working on it and moving in. Mark was authorized to tell people that; it wasn’t a secret, or even private, and it _sort of_ explained the changes. But Mark also now knew the whole story of Peter’s relationship with Laura. 

He had ended up calling Stone into his office to have a drink and a talk because he, Mark, had noticed the changes and, as Stone’s boss, wanted to know what was going on. Mark was overjoyed for Peter, and he said so repeatedly. What he didn’t say out loud was how stunned he was to find out that what had been driving Stone all this time was a lot more than just a need for his father’s approval. He was also blown away that no-nonsense, black-and-white Peter Stone was, in truth, a deeply romantic man who had been nursing a hopeless love for years. 

When people around the State’s Attorney’s office learned that he was getting married, they thought they had put two and two together. No wonder Stone was so happy and didn’t want to work all the time. He was in love. Which was correct, but nowhere near the whole story. The office gossips expected that, after the honeymoon, he’d go back to normal. What they didn’t know was that _this_ – joking, open, smiling - was Peter’s normal. And he never went back to the stern, frozen sleepwalker who had spent years working himself into the ground just to forget. 

******************** 

The day before marrying Peter, Laura went to the small chapel attached to the church. She felt as though she should do something to honor Rafael, and their marriage, but she wasn’t quite sure what. She was glad to find herself alone in the chapel as she lit a candle for him, then crossed herself and knelt to pray for him. She ended up spending much longer than she had intended, certainly praying for Rafael, but unexpectedly doing a lot of thinking, as well. 

She had long been troubled by the thought that Rafael would be furious to know that she had ended up with Peter, after all. But there in the chapel, she remembered something Rafael had said to her once, and had refused to explain. She and Rafael had been married for over two years at that point and, over a romantic dinner, had been marveling – again – at how perfectly things had turned out for them. Laura began gently teasing Rafael about having been jealous of Peter. She had expected a sarcastic response but, instead, Rafael had become thoughtful for just a moment. 

“He’s not such a bad guy, Stone. I think I had him wrong.” 

Laura had been genuinely surprised. “I know I didn’t hear that right.” 

“I’m serious. I saw him do something once, something I would never have the guts, or the class, to do. It… changed things.” 

“What did he do?”

Rafael had looked into her eyes with a mysterious smile. “That’s between me and him. But I understand things a little better now.” 

“Are you going to tell me what things?” 

“No,” he’d smirked in the way he knew made her hot. “But you’re welcome to try to make me.” 

There in the chapel, Laura hoped that Rafael could somehow know how deeply she loved him, and would love him for the rest of her life. She felt, at that moment, a quiet confidence that he did. Moreover, she knew that he had loved her. For that reason, she sensed that he would be content, at least, with her choice to marry Peter because he would want her to be happy. And Peter made her completely, insanely happy. 

****************

On Peter and Laura’s wedding day, the church in which Laura had grown up was full of the people they had known and cared about through their lives. Although Amanda Rollins hadn’t been able to make it because of the girls, people from Peter and Laura’s New York lives had shown up in force. Fin, Olivia and Sonny had sat beaming from near the front, and a large number of Peter’s relatives, whom Laura had heard of but never met, sat front and center to make sure he knew he still had plenty of family of his own.

Several of Peter’s old teammates showed up with their families, teasing him about waiting so long to settle down. Even a few of Peter’s law school friends and Laura’s friends from nursing school were there, amazed and elated to see this couple, who had been so in love at Northwestern, had found their way back to each other after being torn apart by life. 

And then, of course, there were their Chicago families. All of the Intelligence Unit were there, including a very emotional Hank Voight, and a healthy contingent of CPD cops from other units. Most of Firehouse 51 was there, rowdy and cheering whenever the opportunity arose. A large number of Laura’s old coworkers from Chicago Med were there, with a gleeful Dr. Charles and Sharon Goodwin seated together right in the middle of them, both pleased beyond words to see these two have such a happy ending. A number of Peter’s colleagues from the State’s Attorney’s office were there, but the State’s Attorney himself, Mark Jeffries, wasn’t in the crowd. He was one of the two groomsmen standing next to Peter. 

The other was Jack McCoy. When Peter had called Jack to tell him that he was getting married, Jack had basically told Peter that he was coming to the wedding whether he was invited or not. He said that he was probably the person who knew best how much Ben Stone had loved his son, and he insisted on being there to represent him. When he could finally speak, Peter had told Jack that was convenient, because he was calling to ask him to be his Best Man. Then it was Jack’s turn to pretend not to cry, and to accept wholeheartedly. 

Only a few of Laura’s new colleagues had been invited, because she simply didn’t know many people on the FBI’s Cyber Crimes Task Force well enough yet to invite them. The choice not to return to CPD had been difficult, but not as difficult as Laura had feared. She had loved carrying a gun and running after bad guys, working all hours to get justice for victims, but she loved Peter more. She wanted to make choices that would allow her to focus on their life together, just as he was. That meant she needed the regular hours and relative safety of a job that was done from an office, rather than on the streets. In the end, she found that she wasn’t sacrificing anything, because the work she was doing was just as rewarding. 

Ed Parker would have done anything, given anything, to have spared his daughter the pain of losing Rafael. Ed had lost him, too, after finding in him a good friend and a man who was more than worthy of Laura’s love. But this time, when he put his daughter’s hand into that of her new husband, he felt a sense of inevitable completeness that he had only felt one other time: when Carol’s father had put her hand into Ed’s own. 

***************** 

It was blissfully easy for Laura and Peter to settle into their new life together, even before they were officially married. Since they had considered themselves married from the moment they’d become engaged, the only real adjustment after their wedding was Laura’s new name. 

One evening, about a week before their wedding, Peter had been down in his office, working, while Laura lay on the leather couch across from his desk. They often did that, because Peter refused to stay at the office when he could be home with Laura, even if he had work to do, and Laura was perfectly happy to hang out with him while he worked. All she wanted was to be near him. 

She had put her book down and looked over at him, watching him. As always, she thought how beautiful he was, how unbelievably fortunate she was to have the love of this man. He looked over the top of a paper he was studying to smile at her. 

“Can you take a break for a minute? I want to ask you something,” she said. 

“Of course. Come here.” Peter held out his arms, and she eagerly accepted the invitation to walk over and sit on his lap, even though it was awkward in his desk chair. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asked after kissing her. 

“You are.” 

“Is that good or bad?” 

“It’s very, very good. I love you, you know.” 

“I love you back.” 

Laura exerted a bit of pressure with the hand curled into the back of his hair, pulling his lips to hers for a long, sensual moment. 

“What did you want to ask me?” 

“Well, you’ve never said anything about our names.” 

“Our names?” 

“After we’re married. I just… I’ve thought about this a lot, and I want us to have the same name. It’s romantic.” 

“I think so, too. I want that, too.” Peter carefully controlled his expression. He had been thinking about this quite a bit, as well. 

“You do?” 

“Yes.” 

She smiled. “Good. Because I want to ask you if… you’ll…” 

Peter held his breath. Whatever he had to do, he would do. But he really, really didn’t want to go through the rest of his life as Peter Parker. 

“Will you give me your name?” 

Peter skipped several beats. “Really?” 

“Really,” Laura answered, her eyes wide as she looked into his. “I’d be honored to have your name. It means we’re a family.” 

“We are a family.” 

“Yeah. We are. And I don’t really know how to say this without it coming out wrong but… having your name means I belong to you. Not, like, in the old-timey ‘women are chattel’ sense, but in the sense of… I don’t know…” 

“In the sense that you’re mine.” 

“Yes! Exactly. Just like you’re mine.” 

“Yes, I am. So. Peter and Laura Stone.” 

“Peter and Laura Stone.” 

At first, Peter tried to hide his tears of happiness. But Laura saw them and kissed them away, overjoyed that he understood the importance to her of taking his name, and that it was important to him, too. It was just one way that she could show him all that he meant to her. She would show him that in every way she could, for the rest of her life. 


	58. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter Stone and his life after marrying the woman he loves.

“Oh, Peter, this is a terrible idea. I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Little late, Sunshine.”

“We’re too old for this! What if-“

“We’re gonna be great. It’s gonna be the best thing we ever did.”

“I don’t – oooooh, here we go.”

Forearms together as though they were about to arm wrestle, they clasped hands and Laura focused on Peter’s eyes as he helped her breathe through the contraction. It was a big one.

“OK,” the nurse said. “It’s time for me to go get the doctor. We’re about to have a baby.” 

They named their daughter Rachael. That spelling had been Peter’s idea. A wildly generous gift to Laura, so typical of him. She’d tried to talk him out of it at first, thinking he would regret it later, but he had asked her two questions. First, whether she liked the name. She loved it. Second, whether she wanted to honor Rafael by naming their daughter after him. When she said yes, he had declared the subject closed.

“But why would you do something like that?”

“Because he was a good man, and he loved you as much as I do.”

It was nowhere near the first or the last time Peter made Laura cry with happiness.

*******

Laura had always looked forward to watching Peter with their baby. But nothing could have prepared her for the staggering rush of love she felt seeing him with Rachael in his arms. He simply melted with adoration when he looked at her which, in turn, made Laura melt with adoration for him. Sometimes Laura would hear Peter having a conversation with Rachael, Peter talking and Rachael making excited baby squeals, and just listen, tears in her eyes, awash in a tenderness of emotion she had never known existed. Sometimes Peter would just talk in a sweet, silly voice about how pretty Rachael was and how much he loved her. Sometimes he would hold her while he was working, and have serious discussions with her about cases, asking her opinion about his chances on a particular motion. Other times, he would watch baseball games with her and explain the rules to her, or why a particular call by the umpire was outrageously wrong. Rachel didn’t care what the topic was, she just loved to be in Daddy’s arms while he talked to her. 

When Rachael began to walk and talk, he was so patient, so interested in what she was telling him, so engaged in whatever they were doing together, that Laura felt blessed to have this man as her daughter’s father.

************

Laura came upon Peter one day in his home office, staring thoughtfully at a picture taken the past Christmas, framed and prominently placed on his desk. In the picture, Peter and Laura were seated in front of the fire in their living room, with three-year-old Rachael on Peter’s lap.

Laura took her favorite place to stand when Peter was working: behind his chair, arms around his neck and chin resting on his shoulder. He picked up the portrait so that they could both look closely at it.

“What are you thinking?” Laura asked.

“Do you ever look at this and think that it’s…” His voice trailed off.

“Not all of us?” She quietly suggested.

Peter turned to face her and pull her into his lap, his face lit with a joyful smile. “Exactly.”

Henry Finn was born a year later. 

To Laura’s eternal delight, both of her children looked exactly like their father. 

*********

The people at the State’s Attorney’s office eventually got used to the “new” Peter Stone, who came to the office early and, without exception, left before dinnertime. He might work late in his home office, but he was home in the evenings, where he most wanted to be. He wanted to spend every possible second with his wife. And when his children were born, he wanted to spend every possible second with them.

Peter was so jealous of his home life that, even when he needed to work late with his colleagues, they had to come to him. As Bureau Chief, he was entitled to a few eccentricities. Besides which, although he was a softer, sweeter version of himself, he was still Peter Stone. That meant he was stern, authoritative, and demanding. He was determined to balance his love of his work and his love of his family, even if sometimes the two sides of him came together a little awkwardly. Once, when Rachael had colic, a terrified junior A.S.A. preparing for her first trial had spent an evening in Peter’s home office, anxiously practicing her opening statement while Peter scowled and took notes, all the while bouncing his baby girl in one arm. 

He didn’t often try cases anymore and, on the rare occasions that he did, late work happened at the Stones’ house. There were stories about war room sessions in the Stones’ dining room, with coffee cups and take-out containers all over, files, papers, photographs, and exhibits scattered on every surface and piled on the floor, and baby Henry crawling happily around under the table, chewing on legal pads. 

*********

Sometimes it was hard for Laura to stand how much she loved these children she and Peter had made. The things they said sometimes made tears run down her face because she was laughing so hard, and sometimes just because they were so sweet. 

Once, when Henry and a friend were playing with the toys that were usually spread all over the floor in the family room, they had apparently forgotten that Laura was behind them, working in the kitchen. 

Henry’s friend had continued banging two fire trucks into each other while he said, with great seriousness, “Did you know that Moms have other names?”

Laura had stifled her laugh.

“’Course I knew that, I’m not a little kid,” Henry responded with the sweet pomposity of small children. Laura swallowed another chuckle.

“My mom’s other name is Patricia,” Henry’s friend told him.

“My mom’s other name is Sunshine.” 

That time, Laura laughed out loud.

***********

Rachael and Henry had Peter wrapped around their little fingers from day one. Laura ended up being the disciplinarian. Although Peter taught their children his strict moral code, he was always willing to rationalize, to make exceptions and compromises, in order to avoid having to hold the kids to the consequences of their actions. He simply couldn’t stand seeing them unhappy or, worse, mad at him. With rare exceptions, it was Laura who had to hold the line. Which Laura’s parents found wildly ironic.

*************

Of the two, Rachael was the athlete. She ran, she jumped, she climbed things, and she loved any sport. Peter was enthralled and practiced with her any time she asked, no matter the sport. Laura had initially wondered if, having played baseball at such an elite level, he would have unrealistic expectations or be a harsh critic. The opposite turned out to be true. Peter was entirely supportive, full of encouragement whenever Rachael’s team lost a game, always ready to cheer her on. If he was harsh, it was only with himself. Whenever she was on a team and had an event, Peter was there. Even when it was wildly inconvenient, even if Rachael really didn’t care if he missed it, he was there. He was not willing to have her look into the stands for him and not see him there. Ever.

She looked amazingly like Peter, and shared his interest in sports, but Rachael’s personality was pure Laura. She drove her mother crazy sometimes. Laura would find herself just about to agree to something completely ridiculous, then realize that her daughter had conned her again. Rachael was also a smartass. From the time she could talk, Rachael had a snarky comment for every occasion. She was never cruel, but she had a wicked wit that she very much enjoyed using on everyone except Peter. Rachael thought Peter hung the moon. She was all sweetness and adoration with him, which Laura loved, but everyone else got the brunt of Rachael’s cleverness.

Henry was a geek. He loved anything electronic, and anything having to do with role playing or science fiction. He liked exercise, but sports left him cold. The only team events Henry participated in were debates. Peter was in the audience for every one of those, too. Like his father, Henry was eloquent and logical, a natural public speaker, and unbeatable in an argument. 

Which again was a bit of a problem for Laura. When he was around fourteen, Laura finally gave up trying to win arguments with Henry. After a particularly tense discussion about Henry’s curfew, she told him that he was entitled to know her reasons for decisions, but that she would get to have the final word until he graduated from being the son and became the mother. Henry bristled at that, but couldn’t come up with a response in the moment. 

What Laura didn’t know was that Peter had come in later and told Henry, man to man, that Laura was the law in their house, even to Peter. That, Henry could live with. Peter also suggested that it was in Henry’s best interest to obey because he really, really didn’t want to be on his mother’s shit list. Laura didn’t lose her temper often, but they both knew that if she called you Sparky, you better watch it.

*************

Rachael and Henry grew up with their parents’ date nights. They happened a lot. Regular ‘date nights’ meant a babysitter while Mom and Dad went out to do something alone together. “Big date nights” meant they were going to some fancy event in the city and Grandma and Grandpa were coming to stay the night. But somewhere around puberty, Rachael realized to her teenage horror that over the past year or so, her parents had developed a third kind of date night. That was a regular night when Mom and Dad were supposed to come home, but called and said they had to “work late.” Bullshit. Mom’s job didn’t involve working late, and when Dad worked late, he did it at home. Plus, on these occasions, both of them had to “work late” on the same night. No way. 

On those nights, Grandma or Grandpa, or occasionally Uncle Steve or Uncle Dan, would come stay with them, and Rachael would just try not to think about it. She really hoped that her little brother didn’t realize what disgusting shenanigans their parents were up to in some hotel somewhere. Henry was too young to have to deal with such grossness and, honestly, their parents were just way too old to be acting like that. 

Sure, they hugged and made out a lot, and that was gnarly enough. And they held hands and said all this mushy shit to eachother, which was maybe a little bit nice, but mostly just embarrassing. But actual sex? That’s where Rachael drew the line.

*********

Perhaps Peter’s biggest parenting challenge occurred when Rachael, at seventeen, was caught by the police, _in flagrante delicto_ with a boy in a car. Peter was livid. Laura sent Rachael to her room and closed the door to Peter’s office while he paced around, gesticulating wildly and shouting.

“In a _car_? How _dare_ he disrespect her like that!”

Laura actually laughed.

“You think this is funny? You’re OK with our daughter acting like… like…”

“Like her mother?”

Peter sputtered as he tried to formulate a reply.

“And if that kid was disrespecting Rachael, what exactly were you doing to me all the times we’ve had sex in cars? Because if you recall, the last time wasn’t that long ago.” 

“That’s different! We’re married!”

“OK, that works for the last time. How about the parking lot of Sargent Hall? Miller park when we were staying with my parents? The rest stop when we moved to New York? I could go on. And those are only the times when we actually had sex. What about the times when I gave you-“

“OK, OK, you’ve made your point.”

“Actually, I haven’t. My point is that you’re not bothered by the car part. You’re bothered by the sex-with-your-daughter part. And that, my love, you’re just going to have to deal with.”

“Did you know she was having sex?”

“Of course I knew she was having sex. I’m her mom, it’s my job. And I made sure she knows how to take care of herself. She has enough condoms to last until 2092. You don’t want to know what I taught her to do if a guy doesn’t understand ‘no means no’ and ‘consent can be revoked at any time’.” 

Peter sat heavily down on the couch with his head in his hands, groaning. “I didn’t even want to know about the condoms. GAAAAAAH! I hate this.”

“I know you do, sweetheart. It’s part of the whole dad/daughter experience. And if my dad was here, he’d tell you that the best thing to do is just ignore the whole thing. I’m fully on board with that. I got this one.”

“Thank you,” he said, relieved. He didn’t change positions but reached out a hand to her. She sat down next to him and kissed him.

“Which makes this a perfect time to tell you that Henry’s started to have wet dreams. That one is all you, Dad.”

*************

Peter had a picture of Laura on their wedding day on his desk at the office. He had a lot of other pictures of her, and of the kids, around his office, but that one sat right in front of him, where he could see it all the time. He often looked at it and remembered how he had felt that day. He’d been so blissfully happy, so relieved that all the waiting and aching for Laura was over, and so excited about their life together that even he had laughed at himself for being such a sap. He kept that picture of his bride front and center to remind him that, had he known then what he knew now, he could have told himself he was actually underestimating how great the future would be.

He loved his kids. He was exceedingly proud of both of them, and thanked God every day for them. He loved being a father. But even after all these years of marriage, more years now than the years they had been apart, the center of Peter’s life was still Laura. He was still crazy in love with his wife. 

*********************

Rachael pulled up a stool and sat across the counter from where Laura was trying to pull up a recipe on her laptop. 

“Mom, how come you were married to someone else before Dad?”

Laura looked up at her, surprised by the question. “Because your dad and I were just friends at the time, and I was in love with Rafael.”

“He’s Grandma Lucia’s son, right? And he died, and I’m named after him.”

“That’s right.”

“But you loved Dad, too.”

“I did, but we weren’t ready to be together yet then.”

“Because when you were drinking, you were a bitch to him, and he wasn’t over it.”

“Neither was I. And watch the language.”

Rachael rolled her eyes. “Double standard much?”

Laura could only grimace and acknowledge the truth. “I’m trying to raise you not to be as foulmouthed as me.”

“Good luck with that. But… Rafael. Who was he? What was he like?” 

“You want the short version, or the one with pictures?” Laura indicated her laptop, where there were files upon files of pictures of Rafael. “Because it’s a great story. I could talk about him for days.”

“Is it romantic?”

“Very.”

“I guess I have time for some pictures. Just don’t tell me any sex stuff. GAAAAAAH.” Laura felt a so-familiar surge of love for both Rachael and Peter in that moment – as the girl said that, she looked exactly like her father. Laura came around the counter to sit next to her daughter and turned the laptop around so they could look at pictures.

Hours later, they had looked at all the pictures Rachael had the patience for, but she was still asking questions about Rafael. 

“What happened to the guy?”

“He’s in prison,” Laura answered.

“Is he ever getting out?”

A hard look came over Laura’s features. “Never.”

“It’s him, isn’t it? This guy is the reason you have to go to New York sometimes.”

“Well, I mostly go to see Grandma Lucia, since she’s getting too old to come stay with us anymore. But yes. That man is not getting out of prison, but he has parole hearings every few years. I go to make sure the parole board understands who he is.”

“Do you ever think about him? Like, want revenge?”

Laura was honest. “I want to pummel him to death with my bare hands.”

“I can see why.”

“Yeah, but that’s not how God wants us to be. I’ve been fighting to forgive him for twenty years. I don’t know how far I’ll ever get, but I keep trying.”

“What do you think Rafael would want?”

Laura laughed. “Rafael would want to tell him what he thought of what he did. And the guy should be very glad he never has to hear it, because by the time Rafael was done, the guy would wish he’d gone with lethal injection.”

“I think I would like Rafael.”

“I know you would. And he would fu- freaking adore you.”

“Do you miss him?”

“I miss him every single day.”

Rachael frowned at that. “Isn’t that cheating on Dad?”

“Of course not. One has nothing to do with the other.” Laura took her time, trying to explain. “Thank God I don’t have to choose. I wish Rafael and I could have had a whole life together, and I’m grateful for the time I did get to have with him. At the same time, if he’d lived, I wouldn’t have my life with your dad. And we wouldn’t have you guys.”

“Are you still in love with Dad?”

“God, yes. More than I could ever explain. You’re going to have to experience it for yourself.”

“So who’s the love of your life? Rafael, or Dad?”

“I’ve been in love with your father since I was nineteen years old. I’m going to love him until the day I die. And I also got to be in love with Rafael, and that love is going to last forever, too. Hearts are big enough for two great loves, Rachael. _El amor todo lo puede._” 

~~~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did NOT set out to write a 58-chapter monster. I just sort of had a thing for Peter Stone and Rafael Barba. I should get out more.  
THANK YOU for reading. Please let me know you were here - whether you wanted a happy ending with Rafael or Peter, or both! I would love to know what you thought, or even just to know you were here. :)


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